Housebroken Heroes
by sarahofearth
Summary: A week in the life of the domesticated Justice League through Bart Allen's eyes. Will Impulse finally find a common ground with the other heroes or run away again? Focuses mainly on Oliver Queen and Bart Allen. Reviews appreciated. FINAL CHAPTER UP!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **So, over the summer, I managed to cram all seven seasons of Smallville into my brain. Yeah, I know, I'm pathetic. But I was just _hooked_ once I saw first season. So here I am writing my first story for the fandom. Now I know the character's aren't perfect, nobody expects them to be, so please bear with me.

**Summary:** A week in the life of the Justice League through Bart Allen's eyes. Will Impulse finally find a common ground with the other heroes or run away again?

**Disclaimer:** A lot of people have a hand in creating Smallville/Superman, unfortunately mine was swatted away. -pout-

XxxxXXXxxxX

"This is it, gentlemen, home sweet home," Oliver Queen, the tall, blonde-haired playboy who, better known by the rest of us guys as the "Green Arrow," led me, Arthur Curry, and Victor Stone into the elegantly-furnished lobby of the magnificent estate. "At least, for now..."

The three of us who had less experience with the prestige of the rich and famous ogled the household with wide eyes and gaping mouths. I could see myself in the shiny tiled floor and couldn't resist running the full length of the mansion. It took me approximately two seconds to scour the entire perimeter, which should say something about how huge the place was.

What impressed me most about the finely-decorated manor was Ollie's handiwork to set up rooms that matched each of our individual tastes and needs. I had to give the guy props; I was impressed:

For example, AC's room, which I labeled a glorified fish tank, included a sparkling blue aquarium equipped with waterproof speakers and hi-tech computer system. Outside the tank, Ollie had installed a separate holding room for storing AC's suits and gear.

A similar such holding room was also in Vic's quarters, a futuristic-styled space stocked to the nines with the hottest computer equipment known to man. I swear, I'd never seen anything like Vic's new PC before. -Maybe in passing on my way to Tokyo , but I couldn't be sure.

Oliver's room was pretty much the same as the apartment he had in Metropolis. Very studio-style with a lot of modern furniture. He had many of the same nifty arrows in his holding room with a rack well-supplied with the familiar green suits. I noticed a study through two large double doors (probably Ollie's) but a stupid panel, demanding password clearance, stopped me from entering. I had contemplated breaking the room's window from the backyard, but my short attention span had brought me to my room before I could find a brick to shatter the glass.

When I got to my room, I was surprised to see how cozy it was. It reminded me of a college dormitory with its cushy four poster bed, elaborate fireplace, and remarkable computer set up in the corner of the large bedroom. The carpet felt nice beneath my shoes and the paneled walls were made of a gleaming cherry wood. Upon further inspection, I noticed a set of stairs leading to my own kitchen stashed with hoards of food. I noted from the food groups Ollie had made it a point not to include anything sweet or caffeinated. The big green giant (as well as the rest of the team) got pretty annoyed when I got too wound up. No worries, I'd fix that little glitch at the Circle K later.

Arriving back to the luxurious lobby, I found Oliver blinking, wondering where I'd gone off to, and the two other members still gawking at their majestic surroundings.

"This is really somethin'," AC commented, his cowboy-western accent thicker than ever.

"You haven't seen anything yet," I told him and Ollie smirked at me knowingly.

"I take it you took a tour of the grounds." He asked, although I'm sure he knew the answer from the twinkle in his eye.

"Yeah, I saw a thing or two," I answered vaguely, winking mischievously up at him. "Thanks for the setup, by the way. It's _muy bueno_."

Ollie rolled his eyes at my Spanglish. The guy could speak the language twice as good, making my crappy rendition pretty exasperating to hear.

Oliver wrapped a bulky arm around my neck, pulling me close to his side whilst grinning grimly, a gesture I recognized as a way to keep me from bolting impulsively (as I still had a habit of doing). He continued with the "official" tour, giving me a better chance to absorb the mansion's towering rooms and surroundings.

After AC and Victor had filled their quota of gazing at staggeringly extravagant lodgings for the day, we all settled down in the peaceful lounge of the upstairs loft. Ollie had walked around a classy-looking bar and retrieved three soft drinks and an orange juice bottle for me. I took the proffered bottle, set it down on the nearby side table, and returned from a trip to the drug store with a Jones Soda. I popped the cap off the glass bottle and took a large gulp, sighing excessively. Oliver scowled.

"Bart, did you pay for that soda?" he questioned. AC and Victor stopped their drinking and friendly argument to look at me curiously. I smiled casually.

"Oliver, they're not gonna miss…" I looked at the bottle's price sticker. "1.50. Anyways, what's the big deal? You could buy the whole drug store if you wanted to."

My quick vision noticed all three of their faces undertake the same disappointed stare.

"That's not the point," Oliver told me crossly, looking seriously in my eyes. "We started this team to help people, Bart. You have a responsibility to use your ability for good, to never break that code. Speeding around, stealing soda's, which, I might add, I don't think is very good for you, is not what we had in mind when we promised to use our powers for good."

I snorted. "What gives you the right to tell me not to steal when that's practically _your _secret ability, Robin Hood."

The team's blonde-haired leader clenched his jaw tightly and the two other superhumans regarded me with upset expressions.

"That's enough, Bart," I heard a stern voice scold from behind me. I looked around, surprised. Clark Kent stood at the upstairs landing, his arms crossed around his wide chest, looking down at me disapprovingly.

"Clark !" I said jovially, forgetting the argument and his displeasure completely. I darted over to him and in a millisecond's time had wrapped him in a friendly hug. "What are you doing here?" I looked up at the slightly shaken man of steel. He recovered from the shock of being embraced so swiftly and placed his hands on either sides of my shoulders, looking down at me with his piercing blue eyes. I just smiled, attempting to hide my intimidation.

"Apparently watching you stir up trouble," Clark raised an eyebrow at me and my face fell. "Did you really steal that soda, Bart?"

"What? Does Ollie have you on speed dial or something?" I muttered sarcastically, trying to wrestle out of his hold, but failing. I looked down sulkily instead. "I thought you came here to join the league,"

Clark rubbed my shoulders with his giant mits. Anger and hurt bubbled up inside of me and the calming gesture was doing nothing to appease it.

"I didn't come here to join the league," I glared harder at my shoes upon hearing the response. Clark lifted my chin with his finger and softened his stare. "And I didn't come here to lecture you."

"Oh really? What're you doing here then?" I pressed, unable to hold back the bite in my voice.

"He's here to help with the mission," Oliver said from behind me, and Clark let his hands fall to his sides so I could turn to face Green Arrow. Confusion must have been written on my face because Ollie continued. "But just this once. A Phantom was sighted somewhere in the area, and Boy Scout's going to help us fight it. After that, he's back to clearing evil from the fields of Smallville."

Clark's face twisted up at the name. "How many times do I have to tell you? I'm not going to be called Boy Scout."

Oliver grinned wickedly. "Saying Cub Scout would work better?"

"I'm _saying_," Clark enunciated. "That 'Clark' will work just fine."

"Dude, that's not a superhero's name. Have you ever heard someone say, 'Look up in the sky! It's Clark'? You need to pick one." Victor asserted, getting up from his position on the couch to grab a second soda. I stared at my own stolen soda on the coffee table and stashed it away in my room before anybody even knew I had left my position beside Clark. If this conversation went on like it did, I'd be home free from another group scolding. _Excelente._ "Cyborg, Aquaman, Green Arrow, Impulse- Everyone's got one that embodies their ability."

"So, what's yours, stretch?" I inquired, leaning against one of the hallway's wooden posts casually. Clark simply shrugged.

"I guess I never really thought about it." He confessed, looking uncomfortable under all our expectant stares. Ha, now he knows how I felt a few minutes ago. Granted a lot of things make Clark uncomfortable...

"Hey, how 'bout the Green Alien?" AC offered, causing Vic and I to snicker.

"I don't think so; doesn't exactly suit him." Ollie said, joking by giving Clark a once over. "Plus, the 'Green' title is kind of taken. Pretty soon people will think we're just a band of leprechauns."

"What's the problem with that? We could get a lot of work doing box covers for Lucky Charms," I quipped. "Plus the year-supply of cereal wouldn't be too bad."

Although my comment made the rest of them laugh, it had an opposite effect on our good leader Ollie.

"I think we've had enough about you and sugar for one day," He said and got up from the couch to walk over to me. I flinched when he raised his hand, but he lightly rested it on my shoulder and smiled good-naturedly. He turned to the rest of the members and spoke, "C'mon, that last assignment was pretty tough; why don't we go downstairs and grab something to eat? You hungry, Clark?"

"Well, actually I-" Clark stammered.

"Good, we'll see you in the kitchen then," Green Arrow told him, patting Clark's chest and leading me and the other members downstairs.

God, I hated walking. It was foreign to my body, and every time I did it, I couldn't help my brain from screaming "Faster!" Before I could even think about taking the far less scenic route, Ollie had tightened his hold around my neck, making any escape impossible. I sighed. I may be faster than the others but everybody else was bigger. I really should invest some time in body building like the rest of the team... Nah, too boring. I don't think my concentration skills could handle the tiresome training.

As we walked down yet another long, winding hallway of the nearly 15,000 square foot manor, I swiveled my head around every which way in curiosity. Ollie looked down at me concernedly and loosened his hold slightly, misinterpreting my furrowed eyebrows as a sign that I was in pain rather inquisitive.

"Something wrong?" he pried, close to checking my neck for injuries. This guy really didn't trust his own strength, huh? "Did I hurt you?"

"No," I said quickly to put a halt his pesky hovering. "I was just wondering why there aren't any, like, servants roaming the halls and stuff."

"Why? Hoping you could get out of chores or something?" He guessed with a smirk. I shook my head.

"No, I just figured that since this place is so big you'd have at least fifty or so butlers and maids. Lex's place isn't half as big as this one and he had chefs, chauffeurs, bodyguards- the whole enchilada."

"Well, sorry to disappoint you, but we won't be having any of those around here." Ollie told me, looking up wistfully at the vaulted ceilings as we walked down yet another hall.

"Why? Did Clark give you that 'there's nothing better than an honest day's work' speech again?" I cracked a grin and looked over Oliver's arm to see Clark glaring at me.

"I can hear you," he said, causing the heroes he was flanked by to simper.

"I know," I called back, turning my attention back to Oliver. "Well?"

"No, it's not because of Boy Scout. This is a hideout, Bart. We're a part of a secret team thus we don't have the privilege of being waited on hand and foot. Nobody, not even the most loyal of lackeys, can know we're here." Oliver explained, glad the other team members were following him so he wouldn't have to clarify the arrangements twice. "It's not that we need them though. With a guy as fast as you, who needs workers?"

I grimaced, "Greeaaat... Just don't expect me to wash your guys' sweat-stained boxers."

The others laughed, and, after what seemed like forever, we finally arrived at our destination. The counters, which encircled the entire kitchen, were made of a dark granite and the massive, silver refrigerator jutted out of the east wall prominently. An island, with various spices and a hi-tech grill atop it, sat in the center of the large kitchen, six chairs lining the counter on both sides. Not one, but two pantries were found through a couple of large wooden doors, and I counted three TVs on various spots of the room. This was the opposite of Hell's kitchen; it was Heaven's!

The moment Oliver released me, signaling for us to behold the heavenly room, I had bolted to one of the pantries in the blink of an eye. I'm pretty sure nobody was startled by my vanishing act since they were all too occupied rubbing their hands on the streamlined refrigerator. I, on the other hand, was voraciously hungry.

Without hesitation, I dug into three bags of chips, five boxes of cookies, and four liters of soda. By the time I exited the pantry, wiping my mouth and burping loudly, I was met with the four stunned stares of my fellow super friends. I just smirked in response, seating myself on one of the tall stools and resting my chin on my hand.

"So, what's for dinner?" I asked.

Oliver shook his head at me, flabbergasted, but decided to keep his mouth shut. We'd been working with each other for about three months, but there were still things about each other that remained a mystery. My eating habits, for example, still hadn't lost its ability to shock and awe.

"I think you ate it," AC said, still regarding me with wonder. "Where does it go?"

"I told you, I'm a furnace." I replied. Sometimes it got tiresome explaining that to people, but their expressions made it worth it. I flicked my gaze to Queen. "Seriously, Ollie-man, what's for dinner?"

"Well, I was hoping Clark could tell us that." Oliver said, rocking on his heels and looking sheepishly over at the oblivious man snacking on a banana. "Clark? Dinner?"

Clark looked like he was choking on his fruit, and I was at his side in an instant to help perform the Heimlich. Fortunately, he held out a hand and swallowed the bolus.

"What are you saying? You think I can cook just because I work on a barn?" the man of steel asked, miffed. An irate Clark Kent chewed out a wincing Green Arrow for a few minutes more until Victor finally cut in.

"Whoa, dude, cool it. Sure, it was wrong for Queen to make that assumption, but he's sorry. Right, Oliver?" Stone asked and Clark raised expectant eyebrows on the billionaire.

Oliver bobbed his head, happy to be saved from the usually peace-loving farm boy. "Very, _very_ sorry, Kent."

"Anyways, fellas, we can fix this," AC butted in optimistically. Like a tidal wave, we all turned hopeful eyes on the speed swimmer.

"Why? Do you know how to cook?" I queried eagerly. _Please say si. Please say si._ AC's gleaming smile faltered under the weight of all our stares.

"Err... No. But I do know how to make a mean barbecued seaweed." The rest of us gagged at the thought of letting that "dish' slither down our throats.

"That's disgusting, man." Victor pointed out. Oliver groaned, leaning against a counter. I hoped he was reconsidering this deal of living without servants in a house of four totally culinary-clueless males.

"Ugh, I'm sooo hungry!" I complained, dropping my head on the counter and moaning.

"How is that possible?!" "What do you mean _your_ hungry?" "You just ate the entire pantry!" "Your stomach is as dark and insatiable as Lex's _soul_!"

A few more exclamations were uttered by my appalled colleagues, but I chose to ignore them., presenting my own question. "Still, what are we going to do about dinner?"

"Look," Victor said, hoping to solve tonight's problem. "I'll download some recipes and tips tonight and put some practice time in tomorrow, alright?"

"Super, but that doesn't settle our little meal riddle now." I pointed out.

"I guess we'll have to just eat some of the frozen dinners I got then," Oliver shrugged, walking over to the large freezer and rifling through the numerous boxes. Everybody seemed too hungry to argue with this, so Ollie started calling out the dinner contents. "Okay, who wants the fish sticks?"

Aquaman bristled noticeably at the statement and stomped over to snatch the thin blue box away. "What do you mean, 'who wants fishsticks'? These are defenseless creatures, practically **family**. and you just want to dip them in ketchup and wolf them down? Huh?!" AC looked at the Green Arrow in heated anticipation, fire glowing in his eyes.

Oliver opened and closed his mouth, much like how the fishsticks used to, before shaking his head furiously. "No, of course not, I'm sorry, AC. I-I should've-" I'd never seen the Ollie-man at a loss for words before, but it was kind of funny. Okay, hilarious. Queen reached inside the fridge and fetched four more boxes of fishsticks, surrendering them to the fuming fishman.

"I think you should check the pantry, AC," I informed. "I believe I noticed a few cans of tuna."

AC shook his head at Ollie, his mouth a grim line of irritation, before plodding huffily to the pantry. Oliver glared darkly at me and I tried to suppress a smile from creeping on my face. What do you know? Didn't work.

"I guess those are off the menu..." Oliver trailed off as he crouched down in front of the freezer, pillaging for more instant meals. By the end of his search, we had agreed upon simply mass baking three lasagnas, two bags of fries, four boxes of chicken fingers, and two tubs of taquitos- my personal favorite.

After we had worked to lay the foods out on the appropriate trays and slid them into the six foot long oven, I was forced to do the hardest thing I'd ever have to do: sit still and wait. After a few moments, Clark fixed himself a bowl of cereal and proceeded to pour himself the rest of the box. AC ripped open a bag of salad and began munching on the greens, and Oliver and Victor played catch by seeing who could pop the most grapes into their mouths. Oliver was winning, I surveyed as I bit into a cracker. Of course, he had better aim...

One hour later, everybody felt like they're sides were going to burst. Scratch that, everyone... Except for me. I continued to scrape the sides of the lasagna dish, all witnesses in the group resisting the urge to vomit at my ceaseless scarfing.

"Put it down, man," Victor groaned sleepily. Everybody seemed ready to turn in at that point and I felt my own eyes itching with the need to rest. I set the plastic tray down on the counter sluggishly. Oliver walked over, lethargic from the full day's work and meal, resting a hand on my back.

"This place is a pig sty." He commented, examining the empty cartons, bags, and boxes strewn across the counters and floors. "Mind doing a little kitchen duty, kid?"

I sighed and nodded, stepping off the chair and super-speeding into action. In five seconds time, the kitchen was back to its regular, sparkling self. I probably would have reflected on my unusually slow finish time but my brain and movements were fatigued beyond belief. I had to get to bed quickly or else I would collapse. I knew this because an overuse of my ability usually drained my body of all its energy. After the long, thrilling mission we encountered today, I was amazed I had lasted so close to midnight. It was imperative I get on carpet soon because face-planting on the floor was looking mighty tempting; smacking the tile wasn't in my best interest.

Too late.

My ever-faithful legs suddenly gave out from under me and I was crashing toward earth. Luckily, Clark had noticed my drooping eyelids and caught me just before contact. He pulled me up in his arms and I rested my heavy head on his large shoulder, letting my hair fall on my closed eyes.

"Guess the kid couldn't last the night," I heard AC say, his chair squeaking as he got up from the counter.

"I knew he was eating to much," Vic grumbled.

"I'm just amazed all that sugar he consumed today hadn't lasted him forty more hours." Arthur commented.

"I can still hear, you know," I murmured, languidly turning my face from where it was resting on Clark's shoulder.

"Oliver, where's his room at?" Clark's voice rumbled beside me. It sounded weird through his shoulder...

"Why? Is he getting heavy?" Victor taunted, knowing such a thing was impossible for the man with superhuman strength.

"You'll never find it by yourself. I'll show you where it's at." Oliver said. I guess I must have fallen asleep during the slow trek back to my new room because I only remember stirring when Clark was laying me down on the unfamiliar four-poster bed. I felt him pull the covers over my shivering body and move my bangs out of my face. The feeling that bubbled inside of me at that moment was one I couldn't quite place my finger on. It felt warm but altogether strange. I wasn't used to having people care for me. Ever since I was thirteen I was on my own, stealing my way through life, and claiming no one in the world could be trusted more than myself. Then... Clark came along.

Clark pulled his hand from my face, the odd warmth still wrapped in my stomach, and got off the bed.

"Are you sure its okay for him to be fighting with you?" Clark anxiously asked Oliver, who was still present apparently.

"Sometimes I'm not sure," Oliver admitted. I didn't have the strength to show it, but his answer surprised me. "He's very young, but he's been through so much."

"Yeah but living a hard life on the streets doesn't qualify a barely sixteen year old for an open application to adulthood. He should be getting a better childhood." Clark insisted, his voice harsh.

"I know its hard for you to see him with us. It was hard for me to take let him join. But, the kid's stubborn. He wouldn't allow me to take him in unless he deserved it, unless he could put his powers to good use." Oliver explained my and his tale with a sad tone. "I needed a new member, and he needed an honest roof over his head. I don't think there's anything else I can do for him except that."

"You're wrong," Clark stated. "He needs you to look out for him. Bart's never trusted anyone enough to be there for him so it's up to you to help him. He can't go through life with a chip on his shoulder. With abilities like his, he could cause some serious damage. You, AC, and Victor have a responsibility to protect him."

"You're asking us to raise him? It's a bit late for that, don't you think?" Oliver pressed, sounding stressed.

"Oliver, you know that's not what I'm saying." Clark persisted.

"Right. You're just asking me to _contain_ the fastest guy alive. Like AC told you before, we don't call him Impulse for nothing." Oliver pointed out.

"I didn't say it was going to be easy. Nothing worth it ever is," Clark quoted. I could hear Oliver sigh tiredly in acceptance of the proposition, turning out my bedside light.

"C'mon, you can sleep in the guest bedroom tonight," he told Clark. I never heard the door close to my bedroom but by then I think I was really asleep.

XxxxXXXxxxX

**A/N:** Sorry for the sort of plot-less chapter; I promise, so much more is bustling beneath my fingertips. Reviews will greatly speed up the writing process. Keep in mind though that my biggest pet-peeve are three-worded reviews. Four words or more is what keep me happy, ha, ha.

Have nice days,

Sarah


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **I realize this story isn't a smash hit that I hoped it would be, but the reviewers I'm attracting are positively lovely. I couldn't have asked for better commentators. Everybody boosted my ego and left me with a blissful aftertaste. Thank you all. Here's chapter two. Please, enjoy:

XxxxXXXxxxX

Bleary-eyed, I woke up slowly upon hearing the deep voices of my teammates nearby. Since this wasn't too out of the norm, I subconsciously dug my face deeper into the cotton-cased pillows to catch a few more zzz's. Ah...

Wait a second.

Why _were_ their voices so close by? What were they even doing in my room? In a heartbeat, I was out of bed, hair tousled in every which direction and still dressed in clothes from the night before, and at my second-floor kitchen where I found my friends making breakfast.

Sadly, my head was still trying to clean out the cobwebs of sleep and my brakes didn't work so hot, ending with me banging my head on one of the finely-carved wooden columns in my kitchen. Oh yeah, did I mention? _Ow._

"_Gyah!" _I said, grasping at the spot of my head that had smacked harshly against the surface. I felt something leaking through my fingers and pulled my hand down to curiously observe the crimson that was now freely flowing down my nose and around my lips.

"Are you okay?" "That was insane, dude!" "God, you're bleeding..." "Come here, let me see."

Everybody's eyes were on me, staring worriedly. _Dios mio_, this was embarrassing. A blush crept on my face and Clark must have mistook my flush for something different, maybe that I was going to faint or something, because he quickly moved the others aside and hefted me up on the counter to better assess the damage.

"How do you feel?" Clark interrogated anxiously, trying to look into my downcast eyes.

"Right now? Pretty stupid." I forced a grimace-like smile, shifting my eyes insecurely to my other teammates. Victor slapped my back playfully.

"Don't worry about it, man," He told me, trying to make me feel less awkward. "I tried to recharge my cell phone the other day by plugging it into my arm and ended up frying the entire thing."

AC laughed, eyes full of mirth. "You told me the smoke I smelt was from your toast not your burnt cellphone."

Ollie had returned in my line of vision to hand Clark a wad of wet paper towels. Clark began cleaning me off tenderly, taking care not to press too hard on the angry bruise forming near my hairline.

"Don't worry, Bart; it happens to the best of us," Clark assured, concentrating on wiping a stream of blood off my cheek.

"Yeah right, does it happen to you?" I inquired, and Ollie, who had returned to tapping his Blackberry after seeing that I'd live, chuckled lightly.

"I haven't known Clark that long, but I can attest to dozens of ability blunders." Ollie told me, beaming amusedly at the son of Krypton, who glanced dismally at the Green Arrow. "C'mon, Clark, you know I'm telling the truth. Remember that time at my house? You were in such a hurry to go check on Lana after she got shot that you flew straight off my balcony, crashed into my neighbors' rose gardens, and gave their dog a full-blown heart attack."

"It wasn't that bad." Clark defended, trying not to look me or the Green Arrow in the eye. Victor and AC were laughing as they returned their attentions to preparing a breakfast of eggs and hashbrowns.

"Whatever, Clark, you're not the one still paying for _Fifi's_ hospital bills." I laughed loudly at Oliver's comment but hissed as it shot a sharp pain through my head. Clark motioned for me to hold the wad of of towels to my head as he went to retrieve a first aid kit. I obliged and swung my legs slightly as I sat on the counter.

"What are you guys doing in here anyway?" I finally had the chance to ask, swiveling my body around to watch Victor and AC monitor the boiling pan of breakfast foods. "Why aren't you doing that in the regular kitchen?"

Not looking up from his trusty PDA, Oliver answered, "We're up here because there's barely any food left downstairs." I would have laughed at this but , the pain still lingering from my last laugh.

"Yeah, I guess our gracious host didn't take in account your bottomless stomach," AC commented, addressing me. I allowed myself a little smile, pressing the towels a little harder against my leaking forehead.

Clark returned minutes later with a white box,claiming the house was too big for its own good, just after AC and Victor had successfully concocted an unburnt, mostly-edible dish. Clark brushed my bangs aside and peeled open a few butterfly bandages, suturing the inch-long cut that trailed from my hairline down my forehead.

"Are you ready to eat?" he asked, after cleaning off the rest of my face with a sterile wipe. He brushed his hands on a dish towel ad I hopped off the counter.

"Are you seriously asking me that?" I rebutted, my tone filled with good-humor.

After we had all filled our plates with the uncertain grub, the five of us seated ourselves around the table. I made a quick trip down to the other kitchen to attain another stool since my dining table only seated four. Once I set it down between Victor's and Clark's, I slowly picked up my fork and piled some eggs on it. I glanced up to find everybody looking at me, their food untouched.

"Oh I get it," I said, dropping the food on my fork and pointing it at the others. "You guys are too scared to eat it yourself until you know that its safe."

Clark looked away to smother a smile, Oliver pretended he got a call on his Blackberry, and Victor and AC tried hard to come up with an appropriate excuse.

"We're just not sure if we cooked it right," AC blurted out.

"Well, how hard is it to scramble some eggs!?" I questioned.

"No, it's not that." Victor responded, spearing the crispy hash browns with his utensil. "We're just not sure about some of the spices we added."

"You used a recipe, right? A recipe not from I hope." I said and the two cooks shook their heads. "Well then, I guess I'll try it then. But, for the record, you guys are a bunch of pansies."

Oliver snorted as I hesitantly took a bite of the eggs. After chewing for a few moments without spitting it out, I gave Victor a high five.

"This kicks butt, amigo. What did you put in it?" I inquired, shoveling another forkful into my mouth. Everybody took the go ahead and followed suite.

"Salt, Tabasco, and pepper," Victor counted off the ingredients on his fingers. Everybody nodded in agreement that it was some of the best eggs they'd ever had.

"You forgot we added curry powder." AC added as an afterthought. Vic pointed a finger at Aquaman and nodded, his mouth still full, but it wasn't until we heard the clatter of Clark's silverware hitting the plate that we snapped out heads up to attention.

"Something wrong, Clark?" Oliver asked, placing a hand on the nervous-faced Kryptonian's back.

Clark got up from the table abruptly and super-sped to the farthest side of the kitchen from us. He motioned with his large hand to keep our distance but all of us continued inching closer to him. "Stay back. I'm ah-ah-AH-CHOOO!"

"_Jesus Cristo!_" I exclaimed, looking at the east wall, or lack thereof, of my once complete bedroom. All of stared with eyes wide and mouths agape at our complete view of the stunning backyard and cloudy October sky. Instead of admiring the newly enlarged view, we opted to settle our amazement on a very abashed farmboy.

"I'm allergic to curry powder." Clark shared with us, looking down timidly. I was at his side in a blink, handing him a box of tissues. He rolled his eyes but plucked a few out reluctantly. "Thanks." he mumbled.

"Thanks for my new view." I replied, letting a smile spread across my face.

"I'll get it fixed; don't worry." Oliver told me, walking over to the edge of the hole to evaluate the damage. I simply shrugged.

"Hey, I don't mind it. It might give me a better view of some tanning _senorita's_ next door." I licked my lips and waggled my eyebrows at AC. AC shook his head and slapped me on the back.

"When your spying on a chick, you usually do it from a tiny slat in the wall not through a gaping hole. Believe me, they'll notice." The blonde swimmer confided with a coy grin.

"Maybe I want them to see me," I retorted with a huff, but Oliver narrowed his eyes at my statement.

"Did you hear anything I said about trying to keep a low profile? It's bad enough it looks and sounds like a bomb went off in here (no offense, Clark); we don't need to have the police over because you're being a Peeping Tom." Queen admonished humorlessly. "Understood, Bartholomew?"

I scowled at the full use of my name and tilted my head forward in acknowledgment. If I opened my mouth now, something was sure to fly out of it. Something I knew I would regret later. Biting my tongue and steeling my gaze, I walked, subdued, back to into the light-flooded kitchen to finish my breakfast. The rest of the team joined me at the table shortly after, Clark with a bowl of cereal and a small case of the sniffles. I picked uncharacteristically at my food, unable to ignore the tension the sat between me and Oliver. AC's superior detection skills must have picked up on it because he broke the heated mood with an amiable proposition.

"I'm doing surveillance on a boat down by the docks. It's owned by one of the companies in affiliation with LuthorCorp. Hasn't really done anything suspicious, but when we're dealing with people connected to Lex, we can't be too sure. So, any you guys wanna come with?"

"Although wading around in the ocean all day while getting sand in my shorts sounds exhilirating, I think I'll pass." I said, offering a fake apologetic smile.

AC shook his head at me good-naturedly and turned to the others.

"Anybody up for it?" he inquired again.

Vic shook his head, checking his cell phone. "Sorry, bro, but Katherine wanted to talk to me today. All this excitement is going to make me late enough."

Clark declined as well, citing that he had to return to Smallville to explain to Chloe and Lana where he'd run off to. "It sort of slipped my mind to tell them."

"I understand, man," AC said with a forgiving wave of his hand, flicking his gaze to Oliver. "You busy too, Queen?"

"Sorry, Nemo, but I've got bigger fish to fry... No offense." He added quickly, probably recalling last night's debacle. He continued with his plea. "The Phantom is getting close so I'm sorting through all my contacts to see what they can pull up. I'd actually like you to check with Chloe to see if she's gotten a blip on her oh-so-sensitive radar." He said, addressing Clark. The brunette nodded in return, getting up to throw his bowl in the sink.

Hold on, if I'm not going with AC, that means I'll be stuck inside this place with Ollie all day. I shuddered at the thought. I think it was obvious to everyone that he wasn't my favorite person at that moment. True, the house was monstrous, but I wasn't about to risk the chance of not seeing him through the labyrinth of hallways. I hurriedly changed my mind.

"You know what, AC?" I called to him "nonchalantly." "I think I will go with you. Might scope out a _bonita chicka_ while I'm there, you know?"

"Not to stop you or anything, but the girls don't usually come out and play when its this overcast. That's pretty much why I chose to do it today." AC said.

Okay, new excuse: "Um, then, I-I'll just enjoy the nice day with you. I've been needing some fresh air anyway." Wow that sucked.

Oliver was casting me a curious stare but I acted as if I didn't notice.

"Cool if he comes along?" I snapped my head up at the question AC had asked our self-appointed "leader." I gritted my teeth furiously, on the verge of telling the fishman off. It wasn't his choice to give me permission or not, my mind practically screamed. Ollie examined my stormy expression and turned back to AC.

"Just have him home before nightfall," he answered. I screwed my face up at his attempt to spite me, balling my fists. Oh, Ollie, two could most certainly play that game. In a flash of super-speed, I retaliated with my own attack. By the time I was done, neither man noticed I had even left the table. I simply got up, feeling giddy after performing the deed, and asked AC if he was ready to go.

"Sure thing," he answered in his heavy western drawl. "We'll take mah truck."

I raced him to the garage, winning, of course. Once he finally got there seven minutes after I did, he claimed that he had gotten lost on the way.

"Excuses, excuses," I reminded him blithely as he opened the garage to shed some light on the burnt orange Dodge pickup we would be cruising in. "This ride is sick, _compadre_. Can I drive?"

"With an ability like yours, I'm amazed you bothered to learn." AC said, digging in his pocket to retrieve the keys. He yanked them out and held them out to me a bit uncertainly. "You do know how to drive,_ right?_"

I snatched the keys away quickly. "Duh!" And, like wildfire, I had climbed into the front seat, started the car, and honked for AC to hop in. "I'd buckle up if I were you." I informed him with a cocky grin. The expression on the big, blonde hero's face made me cackle wickedly as I peeled carelessly out of the driveway, narrowly missing Vic and Ollie's expensive vehicles.

"Holy-! Slow down, Victor would blow a_ circuit _if you left a scratch on his baby." AC was of course referring to Cyborg's amazing sedan that harbored more hi-tech software under its hood than he did. The car in itself was an unofficial member of our team, helping us track, break, and escape the big baddies on more than one occasion. But, though AC's words rang true, telling _me_ to "slow down" was like telling me to not breathe: I just didn't have it in me.

"Hold on," I ordered, slipping on my shades and slamming down on the accelerator with fierceness. AC laid his palms flat on the dashboard the whole ride through, shrieking with eyes full of terror like he was in a horror film.

Once we arrived at the peaceful coastal beach, the bulky crime fighter almost wept tears of joy, pulling the keys out of the ignition and declaring I'd never be allowed to drive with him present again.

"_Relax_, we're fine," I assured, unperturbed, stepping out of the front seat and watching AC clamber out clumsily.

"Do I look 'fine' to you?" he asked and I noted the sheen of sweat on his forehead and shaking knees. "I thought we were goners at least five times on that road! You're a crazy little man."

"Crazy, yes; little, I don't think so." I countered, walking towards the beach. We arrived at the shore's edge and I watched the ocean warily, my eyes flitting across the ravaging waves. AC glanced at me and watched my face turn a shade paler.

"You all right, man?" he asked and I looked at him, swallowing.

"Uh yeah, totally. I think I forgot to bring some swim trunks though," I shrugged. "Guess I'll have to sit in the car. Sorry."

"Don't sweat it, dude; there's a swim shop over there. Here's some money for the trunks." He fished out his wallet and handed me a fifty. "You can pay me back later. Hurry it up though; I gotta get in the water before anyone spots us."

"Right," I answered lamely, clutching the bill. "Don't have to tell me twice." Slower than usual, I sped over to the swim shop, picked out a red pair of trunks, paid, and changed into them. I ran back over to AC just as he was slipping off his flip flops and removing his shirt, baring his toned and tanned chest.

I pulled off my own shirt, quivering as the wind ruffled my hair and raised the hairs on my neck. God, it must've been at least 60 degrees out here and I was about to go swimming? Suddenly the a day with Queen didn't seem as hellish as before.

"It's f-freezing," I commented, trying to keep my teeth from chattering. AC looked oblivious, causing my eyebrow to rise. "You don't notice?"

"Nah, I've got pretty thick skin." he said. "Let's go." He dived expertly into the crashing waves, going about three yards before noticing that I still hadn't come in. He yelled, slightly irked. "Ya comin'? You'll get used to the water once you swim around a bit, trust me."

I shook my head, wrapping my arms around my torso protectively for warmth. "It's not that. I-uh, well- Look, I-"

"Just spit it out, Allen," AC prodded impatiently, the waves jostling him slightly as he swam in place. I bit my lip, figuring I'd have to tell the truth eventually. We _were_ on a _swim_ stakeout, after all.

"The thing is... I can't exactly swim," I confessed, looking down at the sand that had crept in between my toes. I kicked a bit of the dirt around, trying to forget how stupid I felt.

"You can't swim," AC repeated as if he couldn't believe his ears. Water dripped off of his body and wet blonde hair as he rose out of the ocean.

"Really, it was never an issue until now." I divulged, shame-faced. "Usually I would just speed across the water, no problem."

"Why did you come along then?" AC tilted his head, mystified.

I stopped avoiding eye contact to tell him the truth. "Sort of on impulse. I just wanted an excuse to stay out of Oliver's line of vision since the guy's been on my case since we got here; Clark's just made it worse, of course, telling Queen he needs to 'look out for me' like I'm some sort of lost puppy. He doesn't get that I can take care of myself just fine, _have been_ for the last five years." AC knit his eyebrows together at my revelation and I looked down again. "Look, sorry I made a mess of your whole spy-swim operation. I'll just speed back to the house and get out of your way."

"You don't have to do that," AC assured me, and I looked up, bewildered. "Why don't you stay with me and I can show you the ropes on how to swim."

"Really, AC, you don't have to go out on a limb for me here; I know you have work to do." I reminded him with a glum expression on my face.

He replied with his infectious grin, "Dude, I just told Ollie that so I could swim with my buddies in the sea. That boat over there is just shipping Hello Kitty purses from China. Although, I wouldn't be surprised if they were selling those to Luthor." He laughed heartily and I chuckled, zeroing in on the steaming ship docked about a mile away. "What do you say we get going?"

I scratched my head, relieved but at the same time reluctant. Was drowning really better than facing Oliver? After a second to think about it, I replied with a spirited, "Okay, you're on."

Two hours in of learning, sputtering, drowning, and thrashing in the crisp, salty ocean, I felt spent. Regular human exercise was alien to me so my first time in the water wasn't as carefree as I imagined. Moving my legs was easy enough since I had a lot of knowledge in the area but my arms were another story. I couldn't swing them the right way in order to keep my head above the ocean, resulting in AC having to wrench me out of the murky abyss on a number of tries.

"Easy does it," AC reminded, wading beside me. I gasped as I bobbed out of the water again, my eyes stinging from opening them so much in the salty sea. I watched AC move his arms, cupping the water away from his body, side to side. I scrutinized the movement, trying furiously to mimic it with my own unobliging arms. After a few more minutes of examinations and instructions, I nailed the arm part, floating pleasantly over the calm waves. "You got it down. That's great dude." AC congratulated.

"Thanks." I panted, happy to be able to get the words out without being swallowed up by the ocean again. With that part done I was eager to get back to the beach and finish the trying swim session. "Race you back to the shore?" I challenged and AC answered with an evil glint in his eyes.

My lightning fast legs seemed solely land-appropriate since the fishman beat me to the sandy beach by an eight-second lead. Not bothered by the defeat, I climbed out of the now-pleasant ocean, shaking the water out of my damp and shaggy hair. AC handed me a towel and I dried off, recognizing the mid-afternoon sun peaking out through the gloom of clouds. After changing into my shirt, I asked the blond speed-swimmer what else he had planned for the lazy Sunday.

"We should probably head back to the house 'cause it's getting kind of late," AC said to my surprise.

"Are-are you sure about that?" I fumbled with my words, my stomach making a slight flip at the word "house." Oliver was there, at the house, and I wasn't sure if he found out what I had done to exploit him yet. Chances are, he had, and the more I thought about the deed the more I regretted the impulsive act.

"Look, I know you're a little ball of energy, but the rest of us regular folks would call this a day." He nodded and dug his keys out of his pocket. "I'll drive." he indicated with a cheerful tinkling of the key chain. He started to walk towards the car, cuing me to follow. But, for the first time in my life, I couldn't get my legs to follow him. I knew I was in trouble for what I did so, why would I return when I could so easily run away? As I meditated on this, I realized for the first time AC's horn signaling me to get in the revved up pickup truck. With a heavy heart and an even heavier sigh, I trudged over to what would imminently be my doom.

XxxxXXXxxxX

**A/N:** It gets better. Trust me. Please review.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Everybody knows this is set in Season 7. Lana's still around, Chloe's got the healing abilities, and Lex is still the bad guy. Just... Thought I'd let you know! Read on, please.

**Disclaimer: **As much as I like this chapter, Smallville would never use it because I don't own Smallville. But if I did, **Kyle Gallner **would be in the** season-frickin'-premiere**! What was up with that? Justice League with no _Impulse_?! Crappy Impression of AC: "DER! Vic and Bart are searching everywhere for Clark... Somewhere else... In the Southern hemisphere?" Antarctica? Really? When Clark's Fortress is in flippin' Greenland?!Yeah right! The show just couldn't afford the flipping actors! If I owned the show, I'd give my entire paycheck to have Kyle Gallner back on! Yes, he's that good! Stop staring at me like that! -breathes**-** Wow, that was a really long disclaimer. Glad I got that out.

**Seriously though: I**f anyone has any information on if Kyle's going to be back at all this season, please tell me. If not, WE MUST PETITION! Fan girls/guys, unite!

XxxxXXXxxxX

Looking up at the towering mansion that reminded me more of a castle than anybody's home, I swallowed instinctively, trying to stop my stomach from twisting about. I still had a chance, I perceived, looking through the black gates that guarded the entrance of our secret hideaway. But something inside of me told me to stay and face my problems instead of running... For once. Setting my jaw firmly, I stepped out of the high-mounted truck and dragged my feet towards the garage's door.

The moment I stepped inside, my cellphone went off. I opened the text message stiffly and read the glowing screen with a clenched stomach.

"Bro, Olli wants to C U in his office." I read, mouthing the words in agitation. My brow furrowed with unease as my fingers swept across the keypad.

"Do U knw what about?" I held my breath until I my phone vibrated with an answer.

"No, but he seems angry. :-(" Oh, super. That's exactly what I wanted to here. My eyes glanced upstairs in the general direction of the Green Arrows office. Maybe I was just making a mountain out of a molehill. Maybe Queen just looked angry but actually was just a bit pissed. The man did have a tendency to scowl a lot. He probably did it to keep up his macho persona in front of us guys.

With wavering hope, I took the regular route to Queen's office at an everyday speed. It felt odd but at the same time it was good to put as much distance between me and Oliver for as long as I could. Only at the thought of his anger multiplying the more I tarried did I super-speed to his double-doored office.

I knocked tentatively on the hard wood, gaining entrance after a camera adjusted its focus on my face from the corner wall. The door clicked open quietly and my feet led me into the office that was so very typically Queen's with its modern décor and flashy colors. Speaking of which, the man himself was staring frostily at me from behind his silver-plated desk. He motioned for me to sit and I complied, sinking into the hard-backed, steel chair opposite his leather office one.

Commence all hell breaking lose... Now.

"What took you so long?" He asked after a short moment of me trying to control my breathing as his eyes bore into mine.

"I got lost," I lied reflexively, hoping my eyes hadn't said anything different.

"Do you know why I asked you here?" Oliver questioned, tilting his head. Heat was practically emanating off his body; the composure was just a facade covering up the fact that Queen was really as angry as I first assumed.

"Obviously not to watch reruns of the Olympics," I answered in a useless effort to lighten the mood. Ollie narrowed his eyes at me, growling.

"I'd watch it, Bart. You're already on hot water as it is and you don't want to know what happens if I get too fed up with your sarcasm." With that, he seized a remote from the desk of his drawer. For a moment, I thought he was going to throw the device at me, but instead, he pressed a button that powered on a TV beside us, displaying a broadcast of the local news. "I'd appreciate if you watched this."

A petite Asian woman with over-the-top hair was speaking, and Oliver pressed a button until the volume was higher than needed. I got the hint that he wanted me to hear this, but the dread I felt in my stomach was screaming at me to bolt now. For unknown reasons, I was glued to my spot and staring apprehensively at the news report.

"I'm here at the local Goodwill foundation," the big-haired woman accounted, holding a mic to her slender features outside of a derelict building marked "Goodwill" in big, blue letters. "Where the famous thrift-store has just received an amazing gift: the notorious Green Arrow's bow and arrows!" A shot of the familiar weapons panned on the screen and I tried not to laugh at how ridiculous this was. I didn't expect it to make it on the evening news! "Is this a sign that Arrow really is out to steal from the rich and give to the poor like his Robin Hood counterpart, we'll have further speculation to come."

The screen powered off and I turned slowly to face an almost shaking with rage Oliver. Was it worth it? I could hear him asking me. I can answer that easily, no, but he should have seen it coming when he started messing with me. Like the saying goes, I'm not called Impulse for nothin'. Brash acts that could cause a fair amount of detrimental damage came with the territory. I found it a bit surprising that Queen would actually be _this _shaken up about it.

"Dude, listen, I'm sorry," I finally had the courage to get out. "What I did was totally unacceptable, but you shouldn't get so bent out of shape about it. It was just joke. The fact that it got on the news made it that much more funny, you know?" I smiled half-heartedly and found, with acute surprise, that Oliver actually returned the gesture, beaming brightly.

"I suppose you're right, Bart." He admitted good-naturedly, still not wiping the wide grin off his face. "What you did was really hilarious. Sorry I bit your head off there for a second. We're still cool, right?"

"Yeaah..." I answered after a moment of stunned silence. I should be happy, I reminded myself, but this just didn't make sense. I was slowly figuring out what was worse than an angry Oliver: A creepy Oliver that I had no clue on reading. Queen was definitely suspicious, but the fact that he was brushing the whole thing under the rug left no room for argument or investigation. Now I just had to accept the lifeline, chock it all up to good luck, and move on.

But I couldn't.

No, this was _surreal_, and my nerves were splitting the more I sat, staring at Queen's amiable expression. The temperature was still the same, hot as ever. The man was still raving mad, but I was unable to prove it even to myself. Licking my lips, I got up stiffly from my chair, not sure of what I was supposed to do next except leave.

"I really am sorry, Queen." I said with a genuine tone of regret. His smiled never faltered, never left as he nodded, claiming to have accepted apology completely.

Nothing felt right as I left the office and walked back down the hall to the rooms. What was up? Why had the apocalypse suddenly turned into a meeting with the school's guidance counselor? Was the punishment just going to be constant torment that something bigger was about to happen, that I was soon to fall into a never-ending pit of pain? I shuddered; being alone with my wild, hyperactive imagination was going to kill me by week's end. I had to talk to some one, and my feet subconsciously led me to the white-washed door of the guest room Clark had been staying in.

I knocked on the door and after a few minutes of waiting, realized that Clark hadn't gotten back from Smallville yet. Great, I was perfectly screwed. Now what? After a few minutes of senseless walking, I decided to go to my room and watch the birds fly by the gaping hole in my wall, some even stopping to rest on the jagged pieces of brick left behind in the wake of Clark's sneeze.

Before I knew it, I fell asleep, curled up on my bed and looking up at the sky.

Amazingly enough, I heard the sound of Clark arriving home after his short trip to Smallville. I sped down to greet him at the door, deciding to push the thoughts of all things Oliver as far from me as possible. I wasn't about to lose sleep over something I was probably just imagining anyway.

"Good, Clark, you're here," I turned around, trying to ignore the fact that I just flinched at his voice, and saw Oliver walking down the stairs to meet Clark as well. "Look, this place is deserted of food so I was wondering if you, AC, and Bart could head down to the Costco and pick up bulk amounts of everything we'll need. With you and Bart there, hoarding it all should be simple enough."

"Sure, glad to help." Clark nodded. "I need to shower first though; I ran into some trouble on my way to the Daily Planet."

Ollie raised his eyebrows in curiosity. "No trouble, I presume?"

"Nothing out of the usual. Once the police arrived, we were able to get Chloe out of the meteor freak's grasp."

"What?" I shot Clark a disbelieving stare. "You're telling me the _caliente_ Chloelicious was kidnapped?!"

"Don't worry, Bart. She's safe now, just a few scrapes and bruises." Clark bolstered with a consoling clap on my back. "Obviously, that means I wasn't able to get any information out of her. She should be out of the hospital soon though so I'll ask her tomorrow."

"Chloe's health is more important. Ask her in a week." Oliver ordered thoughtfully. "So you three better get a move on." I couldn't help my budding curiosity at the arrangement, thus asked a question I was sure I might regret.

"What are you and Victor going to be up to, Ollie?"

He stared at me, brain obviously forming a lie. "Research." He answered simply, and I noticed the twitch in his lid as he said the word. It was a talent of mine to notice the minutest of details and the one on Oliver's face made my mind flood with notions of torment. Why was Oliver lying? What were they really up to? Could the two of them together be plotting my demise? Was it possible I had thought the twitch up? -New questions plagued me with each passing minute, me being capable of only answering the final one. No, the twitch was there so Oliver was up to something. My mind raced and heart beat wildly at the notion.

Before I could investigate the matter further, Oliver brushed past me towards the direction of Victor's room. I swallowed, skittish, wondering what my next move should be. Spying on their conversation was out of the question since I didn't exactly possess the same extraordinary abilities as our resident Kryptonian. And breaking into Queen's office was unsafe since it required me breaking the window outside, leaving obvious evidence that I'd been there.

I sat down on a nearby couch, still awaiting the return of Clark and AC, and squeezed the back of my neck whilst resting my elbows on my knees. I'd had a habit of trying to ease the stress by giving myself massages since I was very young. My mom labeled it "The Thinker at Work," since, in this position, I got my best thinking done. Not that _she_ ever thought me particularly smart. Right then, I had nothing though. The ever-evasive Impulse couldn't think up a single tactic to uncover what Vic and Ollie were conspiring. I just sat there with a contemplative look on my face until Clark and AC finally arrived downstairs.

"Are you okay?" Clark asked me after I stood up from the couch. He was referring to my previous sitting posture, a stance he'd seen a few times before when I hung out with him on the farm. "You seemed pretty engrossed in something a second ago."

I shook my head with a pensive look, avoiding the weight of Clark's eyes on me. "It's nothing. My parents called so it was pretty weird." I knew it was the only thing that could stop Clark from pushing the subject, which he did with a knowing nod.

"All right... You know you can come to me if you ever need to talk, right?" he added sincerely, giving me the famous "I'm-here-for-you" eyes.

I punched him lightly on the arm, trying my hardest to look relieved. "Thanks. I'll take a rain-check on that." Clark gave me a small smile, leading me and AC out the front door and into Aquaman's truck.

As we drove to the Costco, which required us to brave the traffic clogging the freeway for half an hour, I proposed what our plan of attack would be for getting all the groceries we needed. AC, who had been ever-so slowly inching forward in the midday traffic jam, turned to Clark who shook his head.

"Haven't you guys ever been shopping before?" I inquired, laying my arms on the seat in front to better gawk at the two ill-experienced shoppers. "We're supposed to have a list and assignments on who gets what." I knew this because my parents were usually too lazy to go shopping themselves. Because I was fast, that meant they could be as slow as they wanted. I shook the bitter thoughts from my head and pointed a finger in the front seat. "Hey, stretch, check in the glove box for a paper and pen."

Clark reached beneath him and snapped open the compartment, recovering a small legal pad and red pen. I peeked over Clark's broad shoulder and noticed something else inside the glove box.

"A Costco coupon book? You didn't bother mentioning this, AC?" I said. A step ahead, Clark handed the booklet back to me along with the other supplies.

"Well, we won't really need it with Queen's budget," Aquaman reminded me. I tensed at his words, still pestered by thoughts of Vic and Oliver's secret antics.

"That doesn't mean we can't be frugal." I snapped, unable to hide my irritation. I caught the glance AC gave Clark which forced me to calm down in return. I exhaled, letting my stress out shakily. I had to keep up my collected countenance or Clark would start asking questions. I didn't need to drag him into this or have him breathing down my neck. The guy had enough on his plate with two constantly-kidnapped damsels in distress than to worry over a trouble-prone kid like me.

I began writing down a few of the necessities, thinking in terms of how much three guys and myself would need in order to eat for at least a week. Milk, eggs, cereal, fruit- all in excessive amounts that would make terribly obese people "tsk" in disapproval. I had my job cut out for me.

"Do any of you like squash? 'Cause we can get a lot of them for a good deal." I explained, turning to the two men in the front. AC looked disgusted while Clark looked reflective.

"My mom makes a really good dish with squash. I can ask her for the recipe and try it out." Clark told us, but AC persisted with his disgusted expression. "C'mon, Ace, you haven't even tried it. You might like it."

"Or I might end up kissing the porcelain for the rest of the night. Thanks, but I'll pass on that supper." AC said, moving the car about an inch before stopping it again. He honked his horn in impatience, yelling out his window. "C'mon, you have more room in front! Get goin'!"

Of course, upon noticing the two bulky figures in his rear-view mirror, the man in the small Altima thought better of flipping AC the bird. I just laughed. "Geez, I'll make sure not to forget horse sedatives while I'm there." AC sneered, evidently road raged, and I scooted farther back out of his reach.

"What else do you have a coupon for, Bart?" Clark humored me and I was back in between to study the list of foods with them.

"There's a sale on animal crackers and Twizzlers. Oh, look, Red Bull!" My eyes glazed over with pleasure at the thought of chugging the sinful drink, Clark moved to stare at me carefully.

"If Oliver gets an anuerism every time you bite into a cookie, I'd hate to see what happens when you take a sip of that stuff. We're not getting it." Clark said with a tone of finality. I simply smirked mischievously. Red Bull and I were fated to meet, and this coupon was a sign. I tore it out of the booklet and stuffed it unseen into my hoodie's pocket. Later, Red Bull, I promise you.

After much bickering and compromise, we finally had coughed up a list that was _somewhat_ decent just as congestion on the freeway cleared up noticeably. Then, ten minutes later we were in the overcrowded, bustling parking lot of the wholesale foodstore. People pushed impossibly large amounts of food in their carts to their car, wheezing and huffing the whole trek through.

I followed Clark and AC through the threshold of the warehouse/store, letting the cold breeze of the fan blow against my face. I pulled my fitted hoodie tighter against my body, resisting the urge to dart home for a better coat. Clark flashed the door attendant the membership card while AC wheeled a cart around.

"So, what's first?" AC asked as the three of us strolled alongside the cart, absently observing the electronics display.

"Hang on," I said, reaching in my pocket and unfolding the makeshift grocery list. I turned to look up at them. "Look, I'll take care of everything on this; you guys just get what you need." I readied to take off.

"Wait a second," Clark told me, swiftly grasping the red hood of my jacket, halting my potential sprint for food. I eyed his hand critically. "Bart, I know you don't have a problem super-speeding through the store, but you can't use your ability so carelessly. Let's just buy the food the old-fashioned way today, all right?"

I tried not to glare at the "new rule," grumbling a reluctant:"Okay." Although I said this, Clark still didn't release his hold. "I said okay; I'll do it your way. We're going to be here for six hours and I might fall asleep, but you're the one who's gonna have to carry me anyway."

Clark relinquished his grip and smiled at the gibe. "Whatever you say."

We made our way down a few aisles, dumping large amounts of food in our cart. We were forced to set up a small bank of carts near the front just so we could grab more carts to fill. So far, after four aisles in, we had filled three carts. Yeah, people stared.

Clark and AC groaned as I halted our shopping expedition to grab more free samples. After consuming the bite-size portions, I would pile five or six bags of the product being advertised into our cart.

"You are an outstanding saleswoman, Miss," I said to the stunned blonde girl who was working the Ritz Crackers stand. She stared at the seven bags of crackers in the cart with a gaping mouth, and I winked. "Not to mention _muy bonita_."

"Er, um." She stammered, fiddling with the plastic gloves covering her hands. Clark clasped my shoulder and steered me away, offering the uncomfortable girl an apologetic smile.

"He's on a new drug." Clark lied, badly.

"Geez, man, do you have to interrupt everything?" I complained to the blushing Son of Krypton. God, for being the man of steel, a lot of little things seemed to faze him.

"She looked like she was going to run away," he pointed out, slightly incredulous at my haughty demeanor.

"And?" I prodded sarcastically. "Need I remind you, I could've caught up to her."

Clark gave me the "I-think-you-should-see-a-head-doctor" look. "Not the point. Just—Try to stay away from flirting while AC and I are here."

"Amen to that," AC agreed, distracted by putting ten or twenty bottles of fish flakes into the trolley. I raised my eyebrows at the fish food.

"Midnight snack, Shamu?" I inquired, picking up on of the plastic containers and reading the label. Arthur snatched it away and rolled his eyes at my joke.

"Ha, ha." He jeered bitterly, dropping the food back into the cart. "It's for my fish at home. They don't like the food Ollie bought for them."

"Huh, looks like we have something in common." I jested bitterly, pulling a megasize bag of candy off the shelf and stowing it on the bottom of the cart. With my quick vision, I noticed Clark's jaw clench, no doubt holding back a reprimand. He probably only let it go because I was being forced to walk normally with them. I don't think I would have listened either way. "Seriously, are we done yet?"

Bristling, Clark and AC's eyes turned to slits. Thank God I could run, or I might be afraid of the two bulky guys. "You asked us that before we even started." Clark reminded, rolling his head to look at in annoyance.

"And three times after." AC added, turning the cart and now examining the frozen food aisle.

I huffed, wrapping my arms together in vehemence. "Well, this_ is _taking forever, and I want to know if I can go back. By the way, I am so not driving with you guys."

"We're _not_ done, and you are riding with us." Clark replied matter-of-factly, leveling me with a serious gaze. AC and he were toppling many bags frozen veggies and entrees into the cart while I looked on, scowling.

"C'mon, AC drives like 50 mph. I can run like eight times as fast without even breaking a sweat." What was Clark's deal? Sorry to say this about my best amigo, but the guy was suffocating me. If possible, he was becoming even more infuriating than Oliver was.

"Bart, it's dark outside now; it's not safe." Two more bags of peas were dropped into the cart as we started moving again. I trailed alongside, trying to further plead my case.

"All the more reason for me to go by myself, dude. Then you don't have to worry about people seeing me use my ability. -Even though that was never even an issue before." I added the last part in a disgruntled mumble, but I'm pretty sure Clark's super-hearing still caught it. So what? It's true. Clark knows better than anyone else that I'm just a blip on the citizen's radar. Nobody even notices I leave a room much less spots me flying past them.

"That's not what I'm talking about." said Clark as he and AC continued shopping. I noted AC seemed irritated that I was talking instead of helping. _I _was irritated because he should know by now that if I've come to help, I'll naturally be talking instead. "Your navigation would be off."

"Pft, Clark, my navigation is perfect." I assured with confidence.

"Yes, but you did bump your head this morning and I don't want to risk it affecting you." He justified, looking up from choosing orange juice to nod at the angry bruise peaking out beneath my bangs. I ran a hand through the hair on my face to better conceal the mark. He was worried I couldn't find a way around because of a little bump? I opened my mouth to explain the ridiculousness of his reasoning, but he cut me of sharply. "Bart, for once, just drop it."

I clamped my mouth shut, frowning. Clark ignored my obvious displeasure by turning his attention back to helping AC, who had made it a point to look busy and out of our dispute. Right then, I knew for sure of two things: One, I was royally pissed off at the way Clark was talking to me, and two, I was definitely running home. I might get in trouble, and Clark was sure to kill me when I got back- But I was willing to screw it all if only to spite him.

Nearly one hour later, we had finally finished our excursion. AC and Clark managed to pull five carts over to the checkout whilst I grabbed the last one filled with breakfast foods. An overhead speaker announced the store would be closing soon and I peaked through the store's sliding doors that it was dark outside. As the woman scanned our inhumanly large supply of bagels, commenting playfully to AC about the amount of food we were buying, I watched Clark carefully.

He was distracted by tugging the products out of the carts and mounting them on the sliding checkout counter. He had his work cut out for him and probably wouldn't even notice I had left until they got to the car. It was now or never... Heart was beating, hands were sweaty, quick eyes glanced back at him, and suddenly my feet bolted towards the doors.

Although I couldn't stifle the feeling of unease, it felt good to be out on the town after being withheld from using my powers. I decided to view the blurred lights and obscured people at a more leisure pace, going only about 300 mph. I felt a smile creep on my face at the familiarity of the wind whipping my hair and face, always there to give me that added boost of adrenaline. The cool night made it all the more exhilarating, causing my smirk to break out in a full-blown grin. This was the life. Maybe I could stop by Mexico and pick up a smoothie.

"_Bart!"_

Clark? What was he-? I turned around swiftly, completely shell-shocked, and did something I'd never thought I could possibly do: I tripped. In an instant, I turned around and found myself unable to break contact with the sturdy red-brick building in front of me. Going_ that_ fast only to _crash _could not be good for my physcial health.

I tried to see Clark's reaction as I laid in a broken heap on the dusty, littered floor but darkness was creeping at the sides of my eyes and blood curtained my vision. This was death, I was sure of it.

XxxxXXXxxxX

A/N: They really must make "hoodie" a widely-accepted word in the English dictionary so all these word-processing programs stop red underlinging it. It gets annoying since most of these characters where hoodies... 'Cept Clarky.

That's it for chapter three. I've got chapter four in the works. Hopefully the update will be faster this time, ja,ja, ja. :) Please leave a review!

Have nice days,

-Sarah


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: I'm super happy for all the reviews I was given last chapter. It really helped me write this in spite of all the homework I've been getting in college. GAH, I didn't realize it Pre-Med would be this hard!

Okay, well, maybe I knew it would, but it's still stressful. Thank you to all my reviewers who make writing a bit a fiction that much more sweeter.

Disclaimer: n0T PWN'd.

XxxxXXXxxxX

Like breaking free from an abysmal, ceaseless nightmare, I shot up from my bed with a startled gasp. Relieved, scared, and anxious, I hurriedly twisted every which way to take in my unfamiliar surroundings. I was in a sort of contemporary-styled hospital room, sitting up in a steel bed on a cushy, white mattress. Tubes leading from my chest, nose and arm were connected to state-of-the-art equipment. The machine used to display my heart beat rapidly showed lines bouncing higher and higher the more coherent I became and the more questions violently bombarded my mind. What was going on? Where was I? How did I get here?

_Was I dead?_

The only thing that halted me in my tracks was the sight of another person lying in a bed across from me several feet away. Tearing off the oxygen tube in the process, I shakily lifted myself out of the bed and padded across the cold, smooth tiles underneath my feet, forced to wheel my IV pole along with me. With bated breath, I crept silently like an apprehensive doe to the other bed, an intense fear building within my stomach with each passing step.

Once I finally made out the short blonde hair, smooth ivory skin, and long brown lashes, a deep, heartbreaking sob erupted in my throat, but I managed to keep it down. It was her. Chloe was lying there; face frozen with unconsciousness and looking to all the world like a cold, white corpse. When I looked up at her heart monitor, I couldn't stop the look of complete anguish from washing over my face or the tears from welling in my eyes. _This wasn't happening_, I chanted in my mind, although my body was wracking itself dry with quiet sobs. _This isn't real._

_Chloe's dead and it's all your fault._ A voice subconsciously hissed with all the maliciousness of the devil himself. My face screwed up as the thought pounced on me and ravenously tore my insides to shreds. I could hear the heart monitor I was connected to going off at a faster than usual pace, but I didn't care. I was shell-shocked, and if I died from a heart attack, I definitely deserved it for doing this to Chloe.

Crumbling to the floor beside the bed, I reached my hand onto the mattress and clasped Chloe's cold hand into my own.

"Why, Chloe? Why would you...?" I could barely breathe at the rate my heart was beating, making talking harder than I could ever imagine. Instead, I just let my hot tears fall on her limp hand, praying that she would wake up, smile at me with her beautiful, wide grin, and promise me everything was going to be okay.

Suddenly, strong hands grabbed round my torso and pulled me backwards. I fell limply back against the sturdy chest and whimpered at being pulled from holding the cold, dead hand of the girl I'd come to love so much. I was certainly curious who would do such a thing, who would take me away from grieving Chloe, but my head was so light, my heart so fast, and my innards so twisted I felt like I would faint the moment I swiveled my head around.

"Calm down. Breath in and out. C'mon, Bart, stop crying." The deep voice pleaded, wrapping me tighter in its embrace. I obediently listened to the voice that sounded so foggy in my panicked state until I could finally hear the steady, normal beep of my heart monitor. "There you go. You're fine."

My eyes widened a little when I realized the voice belonged to Oliver. What was he doing? Why had he done this for me? It didn't make any sense, and that fact had me reeling to escape his strong grasp all the quicker. I pushed and scrambled out of his warm embrace before turning round, leaning heavily against the bed since I was too weak to do anything else. I gazed guardedly at the tall man kneeled on the floor across from me, looking at me as if I was going to break. I took in his unusual disheveled appearance: his jeans and t-shirt combo looked wrinkled and worn-out, his blonde hair stood up in every direction, and his tired eyes were ringed with dark circles, making him look older than his years. Despite Oliver's obvious concern, I continued to eye Arrow with the utmost intensity at the final two words he said to me.

"_I'm fine?"_ I enunciated, my words dripping with rage. I wiped furiously at my wet eyes to look at him better. "I was just in an accident that could've killed me and you say 'I'm fine'!"

"So you remember?"

"_Yes, I remember_!" I roared, my heart beating hard against my chest but not to the point of making me pass out. -No, I was _fully_ awake now. "I was heading at break-neck speeds towards a solid, brick wall. You don't usually forget that, Queen."

Oliver flinched at the cold formality, but I didn't care. I was past joking and being the comedic relief at this point.

"And when I wake up, I'm completely whole and Chloe's lying lifeless on the other bed. But who cares, right? Who cares if Chloe's a corpse as long as Bart's going to be just _fine_?"

"She's going to get better; Chloe always comes back after healing." Oliver tried to reason. I shook my head, fuming.

"Just- Just shut up! You don't think I know that? She'll get better and forget about this, but I'll have to have THIS image of her for the rest of my life! How exactly do you expect me to live with myself after this? I'll have to deal with the guilt that I temporarily killed Chloe! She shouldn't have to pay for what I did! It was my fault…" At this point, my chest was heaving with pent up anger with myself, and in barely a whisper, I added, "…You should've let me die." I dropped my head to look at the floor, and, in the next moment, I was lying on the linoleum, palms flat on the cold surface and a painful fire in my left cheek. I spun my head around and, with bared teeth, raged, "WHAT DID YOU DO THAT FOR?"

Oliver was massaging the hand he had forcibly slapped me across the face with, looking aggravated. "Never question your existence, Bart, you hear me? It's the code of the Justice League to protect and preserve. If we had any chance to save you, we were going to take it. Chloe sacrificed maybe four days of life so that you could survive and this is how you're going to repay her? By wishing we had left you for dead? Yes, you're going to feel guilty, but the team and I will help you get through it."

Rubbing my cheek, I finally looked up at him with interest. "How? How are you guys going to possibly make me feel better about what I did to her?"

"Well, for starters," He pulled a metal bracelet out of his pocket and grabbed my wrist. I tried to pull away in protest, but his hold remained firm. I gasped loudly as the cold steel was strapped around my thin, pale arm. I watched intently as Ollie pressed a few small buttons on the top of the bracelet and finally clicked it firmly in place around my wrist. "This might hurt…" I quirked my eyebrow in confusion at the statement, but immediately my mouth flew open with a short cry of surprise as I felt a thick needle penetrate the skin underneath the metal strap.

"Ah! What the-? What did you do to me?" I asked frantically, pulling my arm back to examine the cold metal now planted in me.

"It's just something Victor and I've been working on," Oliver began to explain.

"And what would that be? The most painful jewelry collection ever created." I surmised sarcastically. I noticed a twitch on Ollie's lip, but he recovered in a blink of an eye with further explanation.

"No, it's an ability inhibitor. The bracelet ensures a concentrated dose of the serum we've created flows through your blood at a consistent and constant rate. In other words, with that bracelet on, you won't be able to super-speed." My jaw fell open.

"Are you serious?" I asked, staring incredulously at the smooth bracelet. "No-_No._ I don't want this. What were you thinking? Get it off right now!"

"It won't come off unless Victor or I tell it to, and we're not going to do that."

"What?! Why not?"

"Because you need to learn there are consequences to your actions, Bart," Oliver explained harshly. "You can't keep going through life doing whatever you want because it's convenient for you."

"But you're one of the guys who named me _Impulse_." I reminded. "That's just how I operate."

"Well, not anymore it isn't." Oliver said with a tone of finality, standing up and towering over me. "If you ever want to stop feeling guilty, you have to accept this."

I shook my head and stared with a frown at the inhibitor. This couldn't be happening. I got up suddenly and tried to test my abilities. Nothing. I tried again, concentrating harder this time, and managed to walk three steps with no luck.

"Stop that," Oliver admonished, watching my futile attempts with a look of pity. I scowled. This was all his fault, yet he still felt sorry for me? This guy was definitely crazy. He claimed to be on my side then takes away my power. At that moment, I would've given a million bucks to just run away and forget the Justice League ever existed (that or sock Ollie in his jaw). But here I stood, tears were welling up in my eyes and my throat was tightening as I realized with a bitter taste in my mouth that I was completely and utterly helpless. For the first time in my life I was trapped, and I couldn't run away. I was finally being forced to look at my mistakes at face value, and it hurt worse than anyphysical pain I'd felt before. "You might rip out your IV."

I glared hard at the ground, took a hold of the tube in my arm and pulled it out with a small quiver of pain. I disconnected the white dots on my chest and pulled the wiring out through my red cotton shirt. I went to leave the makeshift hospital ward and tried to get some satisfaction out of the look of displeasure etched in Ollie's features, but it only helped to make me feel worse.

I was stuck in a house where everybody hated me.

Oliver didn't follow me out of the cold, dim hospital wing as I exited through heavy wooden doors in a hallway carpeted with a plush, Persian rug. I felt like seeking solace in Clark, but I realized he'd sooner want to comfort Lex then talk to me after what I did to Chloe. Instinctively, my regular-person legs started slowly dragging me towards the bedroom I'd been sleeping in. It didn't feel right to call it "my bedroom" since my sense of belonging in the impersonal mansion had reached an all-time low.

Once I arrived at my room, I pulled my red pajama-clad legs up to my chest and sulked until I fell into an uncomfortable sleep against a bookcase. I jerked awake suddenly, hitting the back of my head against the shelf when I heard an alarm from overhead speakers. Rubbing my head, I realized that was the mission alarm Oliver had told me about!

I jumped from my sitting position to race up the stairs to our mission meeting place. The remembrance of the bracelet inhibiting my power hit me hard though, and I realized I was going to have to put actual effort into getting to Oliver's office. With unfamiliarity, I ran up the stairs and arrived at Ollie's office, noting the others were already present. My heavy breathing made the experience even more embarrassing, if that was possible. When I walked inside, Victor, AC, and Clark looked at me with concern and unease before refocusing their attention on the mission at hand.

Oliver began to explain the situation about the computer finding another location where Lex was storing and testing meteor-freaks. He began designating each of us jobs, but when he designated me reconnoiter, I couldn't help my voice of indignation.

"No way, I'm coming with you," I shouted firmly.

Oliver shook his head and I noticed the others looking at us like spectators in an intense tennis match. "And do what? That bracelet is inhibiting your abilities, Bart."

"Which is why you should take it off, Oliver." I said, forgetting to be embarrassed about the bracelet in my rush to have it off.

"You know I can't do that," Oliver said, staring at me seriously.

"Guys!" Victor cut in. "You can argue about this later; we have to get going before Lex finds out we know about the location."

Oliver nodded and threw me the earpiece to my boring, action-less job. The rest of team brushed past me quickly and I stood that way until I heard the jet leave, flying the four of them to Lex's remote island.

With a heavy sigh, I popped the earpiece in my ear and positioned myself in Oliver's large, leather office chair. I noticed disdainfully it smelt like him and tried not to gag at the fact that I'd be stuck at this desk with his scent for hours today. I pressed a button on the desk and suddenly an inconspicuous wall behind me turned into a command center complete with five screens monitoring my teammates' vitals, location, and everything in between.

Still seething over the argument, I cursed Oliver under my breath, using many color swear words, as I watched the plane fly slowly across the radar to a bright red dot marked "Destination." A sudden buzzing went through my ear and I heard Queen's infuriating voice.

"You know I can hear you," he pointed out. I didn't know that, but I played it off like I did.

"Good," I said, grateful he was at least 40 miles away by now, disabling him from physically retaliating.

I heard Queen sigh, and the line went quiet again. He must've turned it off. I sat back, swinging my legs a little in the too-high chair, and settled in for the hour-long flight to the island.

The guys said little to me during the flight. Although I knew they were busy equipping themselves and tweaking plans, I couldn't help the sinking feeling of loneliness from butting its ugly head into my mind. To distract me, I shuffled through Ollie's drawers until I found a PSP. There was a game inside, Lumines 2, and I occupied myself with playing the addictive puzzler. I must have gotten too excited at one point because AC came on the line to ask "what in tarnation" was I doing.

I smiled sheepishly and offered a sickly-sweet "nothing" before pursing my lips and starting a new game. A half-hour later of trying to beat Ollie's high score (and succeeding!), Clark was alerting me that they were there. I nodded, forgetting they couldn't see it but too afraid to respond to Clark directly.

"Break out the maps and follow Clark and me," Ollie ordered. "Alert us if there's a guard we didn't catch on the maps."

I rolled my eyes, replying with a mocking, "Aye-aye."

"I'm serious, Bart. Pay attention." My jaw hurt from clenching it so hard, trying not to bite back with an angry comment. Even though Oliver was being one of the biggest pains every to roam the face of the planet, I had to show him I wasn't as immature as everyone thought I was. It was the only way I could get my abilities back. And, boy, I would willingly clean Oliver's boxers if it meant I could see my abilities again. –Yes, I missed them that much.

"Okay," I croaked. I say "croak" because the amount of strain it took to keep the attitude out of my voice was suffocating. The scene must have gotten pretty intense down there because nobody bothered to comment. "Victor and AC you know what to do. There's only two or three guards on the west side of the permieter so, Cyborg, go that way, but there is a security system in the water. You should be able to take those out with a water-bomb, Aquaman."

"Copy that, Impulse," AC said. I'm glad he didn't say "Watchtower" since it would only help to bring up the fact that I was taking Chloe's usual gig.

"I'm heading west." Cyborg affirmed. The blue and orange dots headed in opposite directions on the blueprint of Lex's building.

"What do you have for us, Impulse?" Oliver inquired.

"Four guards standing at the entrance, one up in the balcony, and five inside the cell room. Take them out and then release the prisoners." I instructed per the plan.

"You make it sound so easy," Clark joked, sounding slightly nervous. Stretch cracked me up. He was absolutely indestructible in every respect and had more cool abilities than all of us combined, yet he still got the jitters when fighting time came a-knocking.

"The sentries are switching shifts now. Get in there to catch them off guard." I ordered. The red and green dots fled across the screen, Clark's at an obviously faster pace and Green Arrow's trailing behind to apply his signature distant attacks.

Five minutes later, as Aquaman was busy killing the security from below sea level and Green Arrow and Clark were still kicking bad guys' heads in, Victor's mic buzzed to life in my ear.

"Impulse, I good to go?" I could see his dot peaking around the corner of a hallway with a sentinel standing guard at one of the doors. Since the room he was guarding was labeled "High-Security Clearance Access Only," the lookout was most likely packing, and that had me a little worried.

"No, there's an armed guard standing 15 feet away. Attack evasively. Don't start any alarms until we're sure we got everyone."

"Roger that." He said, steeling himself for an attack. I didn't know what he was going to do, but, knowing Victor, it was probably going to be insanely cool. If only I could be there. I didn't know how Chloe got any sort of high from watching dots all day; it was mind numbing and totally tedious.

I had such a yearning to be there. Feeling the buzz of super speeding again made my legs shake with anticipation. The rush of running at mach speeds, where everything goes quiet because I've just broken the sound barrier, felt like a distant memory. I looked down at my useless legs. How could anybody survive this slow pace without going completely insane? To me, not super-speeding was as close to being paralyzed as I could get.

Oliver's words rang through my head and I turned my attention back to the screen.

"_Bart!_" He said with an air of impatience as if he'd been calling my name three or four times already.

"Yeah, _what_?"

"Vic's comm. signal is off the line. What's up?" My eyes widened. What did he just say? Hastily, I scanned the screen several times, searching for the blue dot. Nothing.

"Guys, we have a situation on the west wing. Repeat, the west wing. Something's happened to Vic." I reported urgently. I began typing to hack into the security camera mainframe, rifling through some of the perimeter's shots before I arrived at the one in the west hallway. "Oh my God," I whispered, watching as a guard stood up from Vic's body, a thick metal syringe in hand.

Clark's body was a blur on the screen and in an instant the guard was KO'd. Ollie ran in with a sopping wet Aquaman trailing behind him. They all looked down at Victor's prone form which had begun to twitch uncontrollably. Ollie pressed a button on his communicator and spoke,

"Abort mission. Man down. Boy Scout, take Cy to the jet. Bart, erase the tapes and start setting up the infirmary for Cyborg, I need the diagnostic machine and bionics analyzers set up too."

I watched as Clark picked up Vic's lifeless body, and a coldness watched over me. Was this my fault too? Could I have stopped this if I hadn't been so busy pondering my pathetic existence? I dropped my head in my hand, feeling the beginning stages of a migraine coming on.

"BART!" Oliver yelled, noticeably irritated. I cringed and pressed the communicator.

"Got it." I said, my voice breaking. My eyes itched with the pricks of tears, but I pushed it back and began hacking the video cameras for their footage. The last thing I needed was for Lex to see how crappy a watchtower I was.

XxxxXXXxxxX

My face was screwed up in worry as I surveyed the scene of Clark rushing in with Vic's comatose body. Half of Victor's body twitched uncontrollable like he had a case of Parkinson's while the other half lay limp and motionless. I followed my teammates into the infirmary, trying to keep my gaze away from the other person I managed to concuss. Clark laid Victor on the bed and Oliver began inserting the needles and hookups into all of Vic's major jacks while the rest of us looked on in dread.

Nobody spoke for a few moments, not even I had the ability to break through the thick cloud of unease. After 10 minutes of reading the machines, Ollie finally said something.

"Lex must have profiled him. He's got a virus in him."

"Is that even possible?" Aqauman questioned, tilting his head. "Vic can hack into anything but I thought nothing could hack into him."

"Well, when you have nearly unlimited resources like Lex, you'd be amazed with what you can do." Oliver explained ruefully, analyzing the readouts further.

"He's going to be okay though, right?" I pressed, looking down at my friend's short-circuiting form. It looked a bit like half his body was shuddering in fear, and it hurt my stomach to just look at him.

"Chloe will be able to tell us, but until she wakes up the only thing we can do is wait." Oliver clarified sadly.

Suddenly, Victor's eyelid's began fluttering open and he started swallowing several times. I stared in hope at Cyborg, praying that he would be okay. I glanced up at the rest of my team and noticed mirrored expressions of anticipation etched in their features.

"What-what's goin'-AHHH!" Victor screamed out in agony and arched his back on the bed as if somebody had stung it with a hot cattle prod. He fell back down and Clark grabbed hold of his shoulders, pinning them down.

"Vic, Victor, speak to me. What's wrong?" Clark stressed, searching Stone's face for an answer. Victor was shaking his head back and forth on the pillow, and his lips were parted slightly, whispering words at an impossibly fast pace. With his head turned to listen better, Clark used his super-hearing but the words he heard escape from Vic's mouth made little to no sense.

"I can't understand him," Clark told us. "It's some sort of code."

Oliver checked Victor's monitor. "Well, he's still breathing. I think that's-"

"Left leg. System failure." Vic announced in a calculating, robotic tone. The leg on Vic's leg abruptly stopped twitching and went completely limp. I gasped, my stomach churning even harder. My body was numb, and I could feel the emotion in the room turn into full-blown panic.

"What just happened?" I asked.

"His leg. It's stopped working. The virus must have shut it down." Clark tried.

"I don't get how Lex could've done this. We need to kill the virus in him!" Aquaman stressed, motioning a hand to his best friend on the team.

Ollie shook his head, the weight of our stares on him must have been unbearable but still he managed to remain unearthly calm. "His other systems will start to shut down one by one. He has about five more systems to go, and the last one will be his mainframe. Once that goes, Vic is dead."

The grave news stood silently in the air as we all waited for the proposed solution to the problem.

"We're breaking into Lex's mansion and getting the antidote. Even if it means beating it out of Lex himself." We nodded in agreement, not at all shocked by the strictures.

Vic immediately buzzed to life again and announced monotonously, "Left arm. System failure."

We all watched as his left arm stopped shivering uncontrollably and let out a hiss of termination. Nobody spoke until the turning in my stomach became too much to bear.

"I think I'm going to be sick." I said in a strained voice. It was really too bad Oliver took away my super speed, maybe then it would have saved the infirmary's linoleum from my half-digested breakfast.

XxxxXXXxxxX

A/N: There you go. I hope you all liked the action in this. I usually don't write that genre too much but it was fun. If you want to see more of the amazing Bart, please review!

Have nice days,

-Sarah


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** As usual, I'm going to apologize for the wait, but here's a nice long chapter in return for being so patient. I love my reviewers so much; you guys are positively amazing. Thanks for spurring me on when I felt like calling it quits. Hope to hear from you again!

**Disclaimer:** There's not one person in the Smallville credits with my name. Believe me, I checked. Four times. I guess that means I don't own. –sulks-

This chapter is dedicated to **celticgothhardy**, who's been an insanely busy person, writing amazing Bart and Ollie stories that have had me drooling for the past month. Thank you so much! XOXO.

XxxxXXXxxxX

Eyes closed and throat burning, I shifted uncomfortably in a cold leather seat as I fidgeted with the impossible seatbelt strapped around my chest. I sunk back into the seat, hoping to have the quiet hum of the car lull me back to unconsciousness...

Wait a second, seatbelt? Car? Too tired to act terribly surprised, I pried open an eyelid and surveyed my surroundings carefully. I was in a familiar white leather interior, soft-topped Mercedes Benz. Yeah, it a nice car, but not when you knew the owner. I looked dismally at the driver who was looking intensely ahead at the road. Oliver glanced at me and, noticing I was awake, asked how I was doing.

Ugh, I had to stop waking up like this.

"Where," My voice was raspy and it didn't sound like me. I shut my eyes tight, swallowing at the burning sensation in my throat. I kicked something on the floor of the car and noticed my backpack Ollie must've grabbed on his way out. I picked up the red sack with the lightning bolt stitched into the front of it and pulled out an aluminum bottle, pulling the stopper and sipping on it until my throat felt a little better. "What happened?"

"Well after you threw up all over the floor…" he paused to give me a pointed glare.

I ignored it and nodded perceptively, "Ah, right, that explains the throat, but that doesn't explain the being in this car with you."

"We still need to get the antidote from Lex to Vic. I've got a device here remotely monitoring Cy's progress..." He pulled out a black device about the size of his palm and looked at it with a grimace of regret. "…Or lack thereof. Clark and AC can get to the mansion faster on their own routes, so you and I are taking the car."

My face fell in a moment of utter puzzlement. Were my ears deceiving me? What was wrong with this guy? "Wait a second, you mean I'm still stuck with the bracelet inhibitor? You're not serious." Oliver was getting the full force of my incredulous stare, but he remained stoic under my critical gaze.

"I'm sorry, Bart, but I can't take it off. I-"

I had literally tuned everything out at that moment. Victor was in danger yet Oliver still refused to let me help? What gave him the right? This wasn't a punishment anymore; it was some sick joke. I felt my nails digging into my palms, wanting so badly to punch Queen in the jaw for all the anger that was coursing through my veins, but, going at the speeds we were, I didn't want to risk us veering off the highway, as much as I would like to see his body broken and bleeding right then.

"LET ME OUT!" I yelled suddenly, the white hot rage inside of me finally releasing itself through my mouth.

"What!? Are you insane?" Oliver looked from the road to me like I had just grown another head.

"Yes, I was. I was crazy enough to spend the past few months working with a psycho like you! But I'm not spending another second doing this anymore. I'm not wasting another minute listening to you berate and scold me when you're just as screwed up as I am. I don't know who told you I needed a daddy or a big brother or whatever, but they weren't talking about _you_, okay? I'm going to save Vic even if I have to tear this bracelet off with my hand attached to it." My head throbbed from all the shouting I did and I was pretty sure my face was a deep shade of red, but I ignored it as I topped off my rant with a dark scowl.

Ollie stared straight ahead as the Metropolis highway turned into the Smallville countryside the harder he pressed on the accelerator. His jaw was tightened and a frown was noticeably visible. I couldn't tell if he was hurt or angry or both because his eyes just stared coldly at the setting sun.

"You weren't listening, Bart." he said quietly.

"Oh, what? I'm sorry? You're going to have to speak up." I knew I was being unbelievably rude, and Oliver could probably beat my brains out against the window, but I could have cared less at that point.

"I said you weren't listening. I can't take that bracelet off because-"

"Right, because you want to teach me some sadistic lesson that you've brewed in that twisted head of yours; you don't have to tell-"

"BART! That's not it. Just listen for _one_ second with that inch-sized attention span of yours. I can't take it off because only Vic and I can take it off together. He and I have to both be present to give our non-recorded voice commands."

A wave of realization hit me, washing away my anger and leaving me feeling nothing but stupid. "Oh." And that was all I could say without feeling even more like an idiot.

The car ride was filled with tense silence, and it stayed like that for about half an hour. When we finally arrived at our destination, it was safe to say I had never been, nor ever will be, happier to see Lex's mansion in my life.

Oliver didn't look at me as he gave me the instructions to the plan. He was going to pretend to be visiting Lex to distract him from Clark and AC's snooping antics in their search for their formula. I was to use the laptop as a makeshift command center to watch for any guards.

"And do it right this time," Oliver said coarsely, exiting the car. I felt a pang of hurt stab through my heart at his cruel words. He shut the door quickly and seemed to be contemplating something for a moment as he stood outside the car. Queen walked haltingly away, but I didn't dwell on him for very long, just his words.

It was true.

They blamed me for Vic's virus. I was the one who screwed up, and I was the one who was killing Victor. If this bracelet wasn't constricting my powers, I would be gone, far away from causing the Justice League any more trouble than what I already wrought. I cursed the day I Oliver had ever convinced me to join.

"_You'll have a chance to help people just like you and use your ability for the greater good." _Ollie's sappy words rung in my ears. Pft, the only thing I had used my ability for was the near-deaths of two of my teammates. Why was I such a liability? Would I be regretting everything I've ever done in my life?

Through my haze of guilt and frustration, I noticed the black PDA in my hand blinking. Looking down, I saw that it was Clark on the other line, probably wanting to get started on the mission. Pushing past all other thoughts, I focused on the task at hand: Save Victor.

I clicked the button on the iPhone turned superhero technology and held it to my ear. "Bart here," I told Clark, my voice unintentionally thick with emotion.

"Bart, are you okay, buddy?" I couldn't help ducking my head at the concerned inquiry. Although it felt good to hear Clark's voice not berating me for all the crap I put him through, I still had the habit of shying away from any personal questions.

"Yeah, fine," I replied shortly. As I dug out the laptop from the backseat and positioned the titanium computer on my lap, I continued with a stronger voice, "Okay, let's start this. Boyscout, Aquaman, what's your position?"

"I'm x-raying the third floor as we speak; I don't have anything yet." Clark broadcasted through the speaker on the iPhone.

"I'm just getting out of the… Drainage system." AC admitted with a tone of self-pity. "I'm tellin' you guys, if Vic weren't on that bed, I'd never swim through Lex's crap."

I bit my lip from laughing and tried to stifle my snort from the live microphone, resulting in a noise that sounded like a strangled pig. I cleared my throat after the odd emission and faked a cough. "Ahem, sorry, I think I choked on something." I said, answering the inevitable question. "Okay, so, Clark, keep doing what you're doing, and AC will scan underneath and around the area."

"Got it," Clark said.

"Let's roll," AC replied spiritedly.

I sat back but remained alert. If Vic's injury had taught me anything, it was that I would never daydream and dawdle off into la-la land again. There was too much at stake on missions and even though we were superheroes, that didn't mean the villains hadn't already cooked up some malicious scheme to take us down.

I watched the dots on the radar, Clark and AC's paths relatively clear of any obstructions or guards. Ten minutes passed of Clark and AC reporting their whereabouts but still nothing was uncovered that clued us in on Vic's antidote. Clark, who had forcibly entered a steel-bolted door behind a bookshelf, was scanning the computer files in one giant supercomputer for any leads. As I carefully watched the radar for any guards coming his way, something on my laptop, which was scrolling through the multiple cameras set up in Lex's house, caught my eye. Three dark figures, that didn't show up on my radar were heading AC's way!

My breath caught in my throat and just as I was about to say something into my device, it died. I pressed it a few times and tried yelling into it, but it was completely lifeless. My eyes shifted hastily to my laptop, and I saw that the computer had died as well. Oh my God, what was I supposed to do now? AC was in danger and I couldn't do anything! My brain buzzed with anticipation and panic. I stopped the senseless alarm and focused in on one thing: I had to save AC! I had to prove I wasn't a liability and help people like me.

I clicked the seatbelt open and bolted out of the car, my mind pushing past how crazy this was. I didn't have powers or any strength, yet I was running toward heavily-armed men? Oh, Ollie, why did you take away my abilities?! Instead of sinking into another brood session though, I used all my strength to run over to the back of the mansion where I last saw the shadowy figures. As I turned the corner, I slowed my running to a measured jog at the sight before me.

I watched as the three guards worked as a group to carry AC's body away into a gray van marked "LuthorCorp" in purple letters on the side. My brow furrowed in worry and my mouth flew open impulsively. "Hey, morons over here!"

The three of them looked up at me with slight surprise written on their cold, hard features. "How did you get over here, kid?" One of them asked in a thick Russian accent.

"Wait a second; that's the boy we caught last year! He's the fast kid Lex has been looking for." Another guard said excitedly, recognition in his eyes as he studied my serious expression. I had to play it cool or else this would never work.

"That's right. Now why don't you let my friend go and we can settle this my way, hm?" I tilted my head, taunting them, and smirked mischievously.

The three guards hesitantly lowered AC's body to the floor and eyed me warily. "Good," I responded confidently, proud my intimidation tactics worked on the guards. "Now get in the-!" Something stung me hard in the shoulder and I fell on my knees, tears springing to my eyes at the burning sensation that overtook my legs. What was going on?

A hulky figure stepped into my line of vision and looked down at me with an evil grin.

"Heh, heh, guess who's giving the orders now?" The muscular man said, maniacal laughter in his eyes. If I wasn't currently on the floor, writhing in pain, I might've gagged at the walking cliché. He turned his head to the side, eyes still trailed on me, to bark an order at his comrades. "Leave fish boy here; this is the one Boss wants. Oh yes, Bart Allen... You'll make him _real_ happy."

He knew my name, which must've meant he was one of the guards at my kidnapping. I studied his features closely and noted the familiarity in his crooked nose and shady brown eyes. Oh yeah. He was definitely one of them.

Knowing who he was didn't matter though, because if you worked for Lex, you were bad to begin with. An already obvious factor from the way the lackeys threw down Arthur's limp form and came to pick up my stiff one. Two men hauled me up by my legs and torso, carrying me over to the LuthorCorp van. I was able to come up with some resistance with my arms, but by the time I was thrown like a sack of potatoes into the back of the van, my legs had become utterly immovable.

Sitting awkwardly against the wall of the vehicle, I hesitated before slowly lifting my leg and letting it fall lifelessly to the floor. My breath caught in my throat. "Oh god! What did you do to me!?" I demanded, glaring murderously at the men in the car. I would kill them if I had the chance. Nothing-not inhibiting abilities, not running full speed into solid brick walls-could be worse than this.

"Relax, kid, it's just a temporary paralyzer." One of the lackeys explained, climbing into the back to sit across from me. I stared at him with suspicion. Another lackey followed him, shutting the doors and immersing us in darkness, whilst the other two workers clambered into the front seat. "Now, just sit tight," the man's voice told me. "And we'll be there before you wake up."

"Wake up-?" I asked. I didn't even have time to connect the dots before I felt the force of a heavy fist strike me hard across the head. Ah… Stupid _gringos_.

XxxxXXXxxxX

A groan escaped my half-parted lips as I a bright light was shown in my eyes. I turned my head away and blearily opened my eyes, blinking away the dots and tiredness fogging my vision.

Where was I?

Curiosity getting the best of me, I surveyed my surroundings and noticed the room looked remarkably similar to the last one I was taken to when I KO'd.

It was badly lit, circular room with supercomputers lining the smoothly curved walls. Robust, purring machines of all shapes and sizes littered the large expanse, giving the place a mad scientist appeal. Hm, Lex should really consult a different interior designer for his secret lair projects.

Although the room was poorly decorated, it hurt worse to think about the hot pain emanating from my left temple. I tenderly touched what was sure to be an ugly bruise and winced instinctively. God, hadn't these people heard of a sedative? It had a lot less hangover. I looked dismally at the drops of blood covering my two fingers and realized that they hadn't tied my hands. That was odd. Speaking from a kidnapping victim's point of view, these were supposed to be tied around my back, giving me no chance of escape. The odd fact made me more uneasy about what was to come.

"Welcome back to the land of the living, Bart." My head snapped up and my eyes instantly took on a guarded look. _Lex_. The expensive-suited, bald man walked slowly towards me, a triumphant look on his face, the type of look that I would have placed through a wood chipper in two seconds flat if I had the chance. "Looks like my men caught you off your guard."

He was looking down at my clothes and for the first time I noticed I was still in my red t-shirt and checkered red pajama bottoms. I hadn't changed since I woke up in the infirmary? _God_, it had been a long day. I steeled my face to look nonchalant, a skill I had learned on the streets when I got into sticky situations. True, it usually made the other guy angrier, but that was his problem.

"Then again, I suppose that's the only way I could catch you." Lex said. "Well, there's that or I could make one of your hero buddies sick." He smirked with a sinister glint in his eye. My face couldn't handle staying indifferent for much longer. Instinct took over and I bared my teeth, glaring at Lex through hate-shrouded eyes. I growled dangerously.

"_You son of a-"_

"Na, ah, ah, those aren't the kind of words your emerald leader would let you say, right? …How is the Green Arrow anyway?" I stared hard at him, my breath becoming ragged with the exertion of keeping my anger in check. "It seems every time I think I come close to figuring out who he is, something happens to put me a step back. Oh well, it's not a problem now that you're here, but right now I have a whole different set of problems to attend to."

"What do you want, Lex?" I pressed, voicing my growing inquisitiveness. If the bald guy didn't want to figure out the secret identities of my super friends, then what he really wanted could only be labeled as much, much worse.

"Patience, Bart, I know that might be difficult for the fastest kid alive to conjure, but you're going to have to make an effort." Lex said in a silky voice that made me want to roll my eyes. Instead, I watched him cagily as he began pacing around the darkly lit room. "Now, I'd to introduce you to some associates of mine that have been _very_ interested in meeting you."

I jumped as seven or eight shadowy forms stepped out of the darkness, looking ominous in the dim lighting. When they had all arrived in middle, I could make out their faces. Most of them were austere-looking Asians while the other three were white, black, and Hispanic.

"I don't know what you want from me, but you can forget it. I'm not gonna do it, Lex." I said through gritted teeth. I noticed the shifting of postures all around. These associates of Lex's seemed worried, which was fine with me. Unfortunately, it wouldn't stay that way for long once they found out there was nothing to be afraid of.

"That's where you're terribly mistaken, Bart." Lex pointed out with the ease of a devious snake. "These men have shown an intense interest in the fastest kid alive, a very intense interest, and I'd hate for their day to be wasted on nothing so I'm going to ask you nicely: Why don't we show them a demonstration?"

"Well, I don't think 'we' are going to be doing anything. I'm going to get out of here and bring my team back to kick your butt." I said smugly.

Lex stuck out his lips thoughtfully and nodded. "Okay, have it your way then." He made the slightest of signals with his shoulder and a small tweedy man walked over to me. Unassuming and not the least bit threatening, I didn't bother looking scared, only hugely confused. What was this guy supposed to be? Before I could voice my snide comments, something pinched me in the back of the head. I hissed, snapping my hand up to grab at the needle sticking out of the nape of my neck.

"What did you-?" My question was interrupted by the darkness that began to creep at the edges of my vision. But this was different, really different. Instead of succumbing to the darkness, losing my senses to the abysmal unconsciousness, I was aware of this. I was trapped in darkness, as if I were blind. "Oh my-? I can't see!"

A flash. To my right.

I spun around to catch it but it happened again, this time on my left. I failed to see it though. I failed over and over again for what seemed like hours until I felt crazy, that the light was just a figment of my imagination. I noticed it flashed again directly behind me, but I ignored it. I wasn't going to waste my time in this mysterious place. I closed my eyes tight and opened them again, trying to see if this was just some terrible dream.

I was much less fortunate. To my surprise, when I opened them again, the light was still there. I slowly turned, feeling uneasy about finally spotting the taunting light. By the time I had caught sight of it, I wished to God that I hadn't. In a pool of blood lay Arthur, the crimson liquid looking deep blue in the tinted light. His eyes were pain-filled and the blood was like a fountain in his gasping, coughing mouth.

"AC, oh God, what's wrong. What happened?" I was frantic. AC was dying! At the amount of blood spilling on the floor, he didn't have much time before he became completely empty of the life-giving liquid. As the light began to dim, I snapped into reality and went to rush over to him. I was too slow though. The light extinguished as AC let out a final choked gasp. A strangled sob escaped my mouth and my eyes were wild with disbelief. This wasn't happening. This wasn't happening. I had to keep telling myself.

Another light ignited behind me.

This time… It was Ollie.

Tears welled in my eyes as my face became unbearably hot. I couldn't speak, my tightened throat wouldn't let me; I couldn't look away, the sight of Ollie's mutilated body held me in its vice grip.

I jumped as he caught sight of me. AC hadn't acknowledged my existence, but Queen was looking directly at me with an odd expression. Fear? Confusion? Hurt? With blood leaking out of his mouth at an unbearable rate, Oliver asked in a wheezing voice, "Why did you do this to me?"

"What-What are you talking about, Oliver?!" This terrible nightmare, that felt so unbelievably real, allowed me that one question. Unfortunately, my legs were still dead weight so I could barely lift them much less rush to Ollie's side. If Oliver was going to answer my question, he didn't have the ability. The dreadful image was searing its way in my mind: Ollie was bleeding to death from something I did. Burning tears finally made their way out of my eyes and my lip quivered as the light began to dim . I watched frozen with horror as the life in Ollie's eyes dimmed with the light above him. No. No. No. No.

"NOOOOO!" I screamed. My eyes were flooded with whiteness.

I looked blankly as I was swept back into the reality I had left only moments before. My heart was pumping at an impossible rate, and I felt like I would shatter if I tried to move. I couldn't stop shaking; my hands were especially hard to control. What had I done? Oliver was dead and it was all my fault? That didn't even make sense. But it didn't have to. Oliver had told me in the most realistic thing I've ever experienced that I was to blame for him lying torn to shreds on the floor. I shook more violently at the thought.

"Get up." A voice told me severely. I looked up at Lex, realizing for the first time that I was once again back in the lair. I let out a hitched breath, but it didn't help. The image. It was burned into my retinas and I couldn't tear it out. I may have been back in reality, but I couldn't deny the all-to-real experience. A few more tears leaked out of my eyes at the bleak thoughts. "Get up or I do it again."

I sobbed at the very notion. "N-no, not again. Not ever. Please, just-just don't."

"Then get _up_. _Now_." Lex demanded this time with more firmness.

I trembled as I stood, trying to maintain my composure. I looked down, trying to scrub away the tears that covered my face.

"As I was saying before, a demonstration, please, Mr. Allen." Lex prodded. Oh no. My powers… I couldn't do this! My eyes widened and my head snapped up to look at Lex.

"I c-can't!" Lex jaw tightened, and his eyes suddenly took on a very menacing air.

"Bart, right now is a dangerous time for you to be joking. You will give my collegues a demonstration or else…" He let the threat hang in the air. Why not? It's not like he needed to elaborate. I knew very well what he was capable of now, but what was I supposed to do without my ability?

"Lex, you have to believe me!" I implored, my eyebrows knit together. "If I could show you it, I would, but my powers. I don't have them!"

"All right, Bart. I see my scientists had failed to factor in your insufferable stubbornness when injecting the serum. Don't worry, a concentrated dose will be more than enough to convince you…" Lex nodded to the scientist.

"Wait. Wait. Are you sure about this, Mr. Luthor? A dose like that could cause lifelong side-effects. He could develop permanent psychosis and other brain diseases." A man walked up from behind the unpretentious scientist and shot him in the head. I stared, wide-eyed and stunned out of my mind. They killed him! Just like that! Oh my God. Oh my God. I needed to get out of here.

I spun around to run away as fast as I could from the dose that would surely kill me. I ran for a few minutes, hearing loud shouts from behind me, but I didn't stop. I kept running until strong arms wrapped around my torso in an effort to contain me. "Stop! _No_! I-I can't superspeed! You have to believe me!" I thrashed around for several moments, struggling with all my might to escape the steel hold. I landed a particularly nasty elbow jab to the stomach and heard an oddly familiar "Oof!"

The arms had let go of me, and I stopped long enough to turn around and study my former captor.

Oliver…?

My blonde leader was tenderly holding his stomach, but he straightened up somewhat once he saw that I wasn't screaming bloody murder to scurry away from him. I felt as if I were staring at a ghost. This was extraordinarily surreal. The feeling only became more so with further inspection to the scene behind Ollie's tall form.

My mouth gawked in awe at the scene before me. The bodies of Lex's associates and henchmen littered the floor, obviously Clark's handiwork. As I looked further across the room, I saw that the water main had been flooded as a diversion, a symbol of AC's personal approach. My question was how they had found me and how they got in. The lair wasn't a cheap hack; if I knew Lex, the place was guarded with state of the art technology that none of us could even _try_ to outdo.

Unless…

"Hey, Arrow, the machines are all shut down and the cameras have been hacked. We're ready to roll." Victor said to my right, pressing buttons on a tablet pc in his hand.

"Victor..." I breathed, flabbergasted. I rubbed my stinging eyes to ensure I wasn't looking at an imagined figure. "You're-you're alive...?"

He smiled at me, putting down his trusty hardware to look me in the eye with an expression of pure gladness. "It's great to see you too, bro." He walked over and gave me a heartfelt hug. "AC told me what you did to save my life so I thought I'd better return the favor." He released me from his grasp and held me at arm's length. "Thanks, man."

I raised the side of my mouth out of instinct, still stunned to be looking at Vic walking and talking like nothing had happened when just moments ago his body was short-circuiting like crazy.

I flashed on Oliver's body, laying crumpled on the floor. I shut my eyes as if I was still back in the crazy dream and withdrew a sharp intake of breath. But I wasn't dreaming. I was still awake. Then how did I still feel stuck in that nightmare?

When I opened my eyes again, Oliver was leaning down with a hand laid on my shoulder, examining my face closely. "Bart, talk to me, buddy, what's wrong? Are you hurt?"

"No," I lied, turning my face away in shame. I couldn't let Oliver know what had happened with Lex, what I was dreaming about in my serum-induced nightmare. I embarrassed myself in front of the guy enough for one day. Plus, I was in no mood for being scolded or lectured. "I'm just... Really hungry."

Oliver grinned and wrapped an arm across my shoulders. "Okay. But we talk about this when we get home, all right?"

I nodded, pursing my lips. I was _not_ talking about this, _ever_, especially not with him.

XxxxXXXxxxX

I puffed out my cheeks and exhaled excessively, tracing my fingers across the spines of the books apart of the Queen mansion's sophisticated library. Since my room was officially under construction, Oliver had sentenced me to the guest room with the adjacent resource library. It was cozy, not my style, but inviting.

Much too inviting.

My eyes began to droop as I continued languidly pacing the length of the large room. As my head nodded against my chest, it popped up again as the gruesome image flashed in my mind the moment my eyes closed. No. I couldn't go to sleep. It would only make matters worse.

I stared into the fire, hoping doing it long enough would blind the haunting pictures. I was in a daze, and I jumped when the door behind me snapped open unexpectedly.

"Hey, sorry…" Ollie apologized, dressed in a black slacks and hunter green dress shirt. "I thought you were going to sleep."

"You_ told_ me to go to sleep." I pointed out. "I'm actually not that tired."

"Right," he winced. He was fastening a watch on his wrist, looking sheepish. I wondered if my words still stung him as much as they had hurt me to say. The way Oliver seemed to be tip-toeing around me since we got back made the answer to that question pretty darn obvious.

"Look, Ollie," I started at the exact same time Oliver said, "Look, Bart…" We both grinned at the cheesiness of the situation, and I signaled for him to continue.

"I want you to know that I was never trying to smother you. I'm sorry if my motives seemed selfish, but I only did everything I did to protect you." He admitted, stepping closer in front of me. I looked up at him but immediately ducked my head again. I couldn't deal with this…

"Thanks. I'm-I'm going to go to the bathroom," I randomly announced, turning in the wrong direction. Oliver snatched me gently by the forearm, halting me from my getaway. I looked down at his hand but didn't dare look up at him.

"Bart, please, I need to know what's going on with you, what you're going through. I want to help, but I can't if you don't tell me what's wrong."

"I don't know what you want me to say," I said, my face screwing up as tears welled in my eyes. Aw geez, why was I crying? Why did I feel so helpless?

"Bart, no," Oliver said, shaking his head and pulling me into a hug. Instead of returning the human connection, I covered my face with my hands. I don't think I could understand what was happening or just how humiliating this was. Nothing was sinking in, nothing was making sense… I was so unbelievably tired. "Nothing's wrong so you don't have to talk to me tonight. You look more exhausted than you feel so get some rest and we can talk about this in the morning, okay?" He broke the hug to look into my bleary eyes.

I shook my head vehemently. "No, I can't go to sleep. I'll see them."

Ollie searched my face for an answer, looking extremely concerned. "See what, Bart? What are you talking about?"

Frustration bubbled up inside of me and I spewed on accident, "The images of you and AC, bleeding to death. Deaths I caused somehow."

"What?" Oliver asked disbelievingly, mouth gaping.

"It was Lex. He gave me this injection that makes me dream about my worst fears or something. I just- I don't want to see anymore. There's so much blood..." A tear finally streaked down my face at the thought. I tried hard to block the invading image.

"C'mon," Ollie told me lightly, leading me by the bicep to the cushy king-sized bed. He peeled off the thick top comforter and thin sheet and stepped aside. I didn't look up from the floor until he instructed me to "Get in."

If I weren't so busy scrubbing at my tears, I might've laughed. "Uh… No." I said, knowing the reply to be wholly unnecessary. Hadn't he heard what I just said? I know he did; I saw his face.

Oliver sighed, sitting down on the bed and looking tired himself. "Bart, look…"

"No, Oliver, _you_ look. I'm not going to sleep until I'm sure the dreams are gone." I explained firmly.

"Bart," Oliver spoke in a tone that caught my attention. He looked me squarely in the eyes and told me, "You need to sleep; you've been through more than all of us these past few days, and I'm not going to have your health being damaged anymore. It's not going to happen."

I smirked, "What happened to the 'giving me my space' routine you were doing since we got back?"

Ollie shrugged and grinned despite his tired eyes. "Sorry, kid, I guess you're stuck with me."

"Well, than how do you propose you're going to stop my nightmares without some sort of antidote?" I inquired, curious as to what he planned to do.

"I'll stay right here." He offered simply, patting the bed he sat on.

I let a beat go by before questioning in a pestered voice, "What?"

"I'll stay right here. You can't have dreams about me dying if I'm right next to you."

"Yeah, no, I'm not an idiot; I got that part. But," I looked away, screwing my face up. "I don't know, isn't that kind of weird? You lying in the bed with me?"

Ollie chuckled. "Don't worry, big guy; I meant more on that chair there." He nodded his head over to the red armchair nestled near the side table of the bed. I still stood across from him, making no movement of going to the bed.

"What about tonight? I thought you had a date with a girl from Lex's company. You know, the one with all the secret government secrets you hoped to get out of her with your, and I quote, 'good looks and manly charm.'" I stared uncertainly at him and he closed his eyes with a wide grin.

"Believe me, if Clark was to clog the toilet, I would use _that_ as an excuse to drop out of the date. She was the last person I wanted to deal with today, especially after what Lex did to you." Oliver said, sounding slightly bitter.

My look of uncertainty caused Ollie to roll his eyes in exasperation. "Look, we can do this the easy way or the hard way, Bart. The hard one involves me actually sleeping in the bed with you and I-"

Whatever most likely gross leverage he was trying to threaten me with was cut off by my large bound to get under the covers. Arrow could sit next to my bed all he liked, but the moment he got _in_ the bed was the moment _I _mad-dashed to China.

Ollie laughed at my exaggeration and stood up to make room for my legs under the covers. "Huh, glad something gets through that head of yours. So what do you need? Water? Milk? Book?"

I shook my head, barely registering what Oliver was asking. Now that my head was resting on the pillow, my tiredness was slowly overtaking my entire being. My mind still remembered those images that made my heart wrench with guilt, but something about Ollie's unrelenting presence made nightmares a lot less scary…

It was nice living with superheroes.

**A/N:** Woo, this chapter was a doosey. 6,000 words, can you believe that? I can't believe I found the time to write so much but I guess writing this in between midterm papers made it quite the chapter. I hope you guys enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Thanks for reading; have nice days,

-Sarah


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** Here's another lengthy one for my lovely reviewers. Thanks so much, guys. I'm sorry I didn't reply… Again. I vow to reply to each one of your reviews this time though, cross my heart!

Again, **celticgothhardy**, thank you for your continued patronage and beautiful writings.

**Disclaimer:** Owning this would be a dream come true. For now, though, it remains just that: a flippin' fantasy, darnnit!

XxxxXXXxxxX

I woke slowly, taking in the fact that I had never felt this refreshed in what seemed like ages. Shifting onto my back, I stretched my arms across the monstrous bed in an attempt to work out the creeks and stiffness in my back. My half-fisted hands extended farther and farther until they made contact with skin. I gasped and withdrew back quickly, looking up at the other body with startled eyes.

Oliver squirmed from my accidental contact but made no indication he would wake up any time soon. His dress clothes were rumpled, his usually spiked hair was pressed and tousled, and he looked as if he were sleeping deeper than the fishes at that point. True, in the time it had taken me to examine all of this I probably could have sprinted out of the bed and dumped water on Queen for actually sleeping next to me, but my subconscious told me no. During the night I had experienced "the nightmare" two times and with both instances Ollie had been there to calm me down when I started screaming. However funny it sounded, I believed Ollie and I were past the insecurity of being in the same bed. It was weird how so much could change in a single, torturously long night.

As I meditated on this odd change in events, the faintest of buzzes caught my ear. I turned, ears pricked up in an attempt to hear the mysterious noise better. It was Ollie's cell phone. I watched as his sleeping face turned from peaceful to bothered while the PDA relentlessly vibrated in his shirt pocket. So I chose, for his sake and my curiosity, to slip the red BlackBerry harmlessly from his shirt into my palm.

Ooo, a text message. I sat up a bit to read the screen better, hoping that it was a love letter from the girl he stood up. My face fell as I caught sight of the Sender. The text was from… A school in downtown Metropolis? How did that-

Not even opening the text, I managed to connect the dots in a matter of seconds. I let the phone drop to my lap as I put my head in my hands. _Oh no. Here he goes again_, I thought ruefully as I intertwined my fingers in my hair.

"Well..." A raspy voice croaked behind me. "Guess this means I won't have to break the news to you myself." Ollie said sleepily, his voice thick with tiredness. I spied him through my arm, not bothering to lift my head up to talk to him. God, it way was too early in the morning to start getting angry, but slowly and surely the emotion was beginning to bubble in my stomach. I guess that was the story of Ollie and me: one step forward then two steps back.

"School. At Excelsior Academy?" I stated, again looking down at the title of the text message in my lap. "C'mon, if you're trying to convince me of something the least you can do is pick out a public school with people I actually feel comfortable with. A bunch of snobs talking about the net worth of their daddies is not my idea of a good time."

"I know." Oliver said, sitting up in the bed. He leaned against the headboard calmly to survey how my frustration turned into a bitter rant about how absurd he was being.

"You really expect me to go to this? Need I remind you, I haven't been in school for two years. Maybe that doesn't seem long to you, but it's two years without education, civil socializing, and authority. Living on the streets since you were fourteen does stuff to you. It trains you for the life of a criminal not some… preppy academic." I grew a little more animated in my vehemence and began gesticulating to make points clearer to the unfazed man.

"I know." He said once again.

"And what about the team, huh? I joined the Justice League so I could do something exciting, not stress over papers and algorithms. I can't do any of that when I'm stuck in class. It would look too suspicious trying to excuse myself every time Lex decided the world needed some blowing up!"

"I know, I know, I know." Ollie repeated, looking at me meaningfully. I stopped what could have been an hour-long rant to allow him the chance to speak. If he was actually considering this, he must have had a reason for not telling me. This was going to be interesting. By then, I already had a retort planned for whatever stupid explanation he had formulated. "I just… I think you need to switch your focus back on being a regular kid and not some superhero. Your stress levels are through the roof and we haven't even been doing this that long. I can't stand to see you like this, none of us can."

My mouth was formed into a snide comeback but I clamped it shut at his reasoning. That was unexpected. The whole team… Worried about my stress problems? I hadn't even put much thought in the matter, but secretly my teammates had been cavorting on the subject? Man, did I ever feel out of the loop.

"So you guys have just been talking about me behind my back." I stated. As I slowly raised myself out of the bed, I continued. "And what? School was voted as best choice to make me less tense? If anything, I think my stress levels have spiked ten feet from just hearing the news. Hate to see what would happen if I actually went to the place!"

"Bart, hear me out, okay? This will be good for you. I just want you to try it out for a week and then afterwards we can see if it fits." Oliver bargained. I shook my head and Oliver furrowed his eyebrow in frustration.

"No," I pronounced simply. "No, to do this there will be no 'we' in the decision factor. I mean, fine, I'll go, but _only_ for a week. And if I do, by some insanely chance miracle, actually _like _it, I'll continue to go. But, the moment it starts to really suck, I'm dropping it, comprende?"

Ollie grinned with pleasure. "So you're going to do it?"

"Under my conditions," I reminded him. "That means that you don't force me to join the Mathletes or sign up for cheerleading."

"Don't worry," Oliver reassured to my relief. I looked at him thoughtfully. Hmm... With everything under my call, maybe this school thing wouldn't be so bad. "Excelsior doesn't have any of those teams. But I do hear they have a nice _archery_ program." He waggled his eyebrows in order to tempt me, but I glowered at the blonde in response. Scratch that: School idea still sucked.

XxxxXXXxxxX

"So what have you guys been doing lately?" I asked suddenly while spooning at the Lucky Charms in my glass bowl. Ollie was busy making arrangements of some sort in his office, and I was intent on staying out of his sight since being in his three foot radius usually resulted in a lot of frustration on my part. The rest of the team, including Clark , continued chewing their breakfast to mull over the question. So I decided to politely offer some answers. "AC, you still cheering on the Dolphins football? Vic, how are things with your girlfriend? Oh hey! Did you guys do any secret meetings that could end up with me having to attend the strictest academy in the Metropolitan area?"

The guys stopped chewing and avoided eye contact with me, looking with guilty expressions at their fruit and cereal. Clark was the first to actually shift his eyes hesitantly up at me.

"Are you angry?" He asked, getting straight to the root of the problem.

"Angry? Pft. No." I said, pushing my now empty bowl away. "Betrayed is a much better word for what I'm feeling. I can't believe you guys would have some secret meeting about me. I thought we were a team. What was so dire that you couldn't just say to my face?"

"We _are_ still a team," AC assured me.

"And the meeting wasn't exactly planned." Clark corroborated.

"Yeah, the twenty minute timeslot from this house to Lex's lair on the jet wasn't our idea of the perfect conference time." Vic told me. So they had done it on the way to save me. Yeah, that still didn't make a difference.

"I don't care _when_ you had it. It's the fact that you guys somehow pulled from your brainstorm session that school would be the best way to lower my blood pressure." I recounted, growing frustrated with their audacity. "What were you thinking?!"

AC and Clark seemed at a loss for words so Vic took it as an opportunity to explain themselves.

"After Ollie had retained the antidote and injected me with it, I felt instantly better. But after I heard you were kidnapped, man. It was like I had the virus in me, but it was ten times worse." Vic related. "Hearing that you were stuck enduring whatever Lex had planned was almost too much for any of us to think about. We knew we had to help you deal with it, especially after your accident. School was our only chance to introduce you to a stable environment with classmates and friends your age that could help you focus on being a regular kid."

I pursed my lips, feeling the tingling of regret for my previous words. It was weird to hear Vic, the cool, fun guy, being so serious and downright sincere. All of them seemed to be serious about the proposition.

"I'm sorry," I mumbled out of habit. I didn't know what else to say. Having people genuinely care about my problems was so foreign. Not even my parents had cared what issues I dealt with. They had shrugged it off as a phase or teenage hormones and told me to suck it up.

"You don't have to apologize," Clark asserted, grinning. "We know that the transition won't be the easiest thing in the world; we're just happy that you're actually considering it."

AC and Vic laughed lightly, and I couldn't suppress my own smile.

"Don't get your hopes too high." I said. "If Excelsior is anything that I think it is, there may be a transfer in order."

"Clark and I had battled for a different school, maybe Smallville High, but Oliver was adamant you attend this one for its 'rich atmosphere and high-standard education.'" AC said in a snooty impression of Ollie.

I groaned. "Ugh, those are the reasons why I _don't_ want to go. Somebody needs to tell Ollie that his sense of tempting me is way off. Pretty soon he'll start trying to bribe me with cauliflower or spending a weekend with my Aunt Gretchen."

"Is she the one with all the cats?" I heard a deep voice ring out behind me. I tensed and turned around with a sheepish smile plastered on my face.

"Ollie! Er…How long were you standing there?" I questioned with an innocent expression. Ollie smirked realistically.

"Long enough," He replied. His demeanor changed into business mode once the snickering from my teammates had resided. "C'mon, we have an appointment with the Dean at Excelsior. I got you some clothes. They're in the guest room."

"Fine," I said with a put-upon air. Oliver ruffled my hair as I walked past him and I scowled playfully. "You want me to get ready and then you mess up my hair? You should really look into some therapy. I'm only saying."

"Just get dressed," he told me with a smile.

"I'm goin', I'm goin'." I repeated, walking to the room. Wait, _walking_? I looked down at the bracelet and gasped. How could I have forgotten? I had gotten so used to not having abilities, I had almost overlooked the fact that I could finally have them back. I went to turn around and point this out to Oliver, but I stopped suddenly.

Did I really deserve having them back after all I did with them? Over the last week, I caused nothing but grief with my super-speed. Not to mention everyone else was more at ease now that my powers were gone. The thought made me remorseful. God, did they even like me with my abilities? Or were they just cordial out of default. I sighed, turning away to trudge to my makeshift bedroom.

My mood instantly changed when I saw the outfit lying atop the rumpled comforter. I caught the door before it closed behind me and swung it open to yell,

"I am NOT wearing this, Oliver!"

Even though the man was in a different room, I could still hear his faint sigh of frustration as he got up from his chair. The other guys snickered, and Ollie turned the corner, walking over to me as I stared stubbornly up at him.

He brushed past me to examine the outfit. Arrow shrugged and quirked an eyebrow.

"What's wrong with it?"

"Everything! I wouldn't even wear that. It would make me look like a stuck-up rich kid."

"Bart, these school's do have a specific standard. If that means sacrificing your usually more comfortable attire…" He left the conclusion to me, knowing I would get the gist. Yeah, I got the gist all right. And it sucked.

"But it's so ugly!" I whined, looking at the dress shirt, tie, and slacks with utter distaste.

"It'll make you look nice." Ollie reasoned.

"You're just saying that because it'll make me look like you." I retorted. Queen contemplated this for a moment before opening his mouth to rationalize the situation further. I held up my hands to silence him. "Ollie, seriously, if this school doesn't just bases the whole interview on my clothes, it's not the kind of school I want to be a part of. I'll try out Smallville High or something."

"_No_." he said sternly. My eyes widened.

"What? Is there a problem with Smallville High?" I inquired, staring strangely at Oliver. He looked uncomfortable for a moment before shaking his head.

"Of course not, I mean… Well, it's kind of a public school, right?"

"I've gone to one before." I rationalized. I smirked as Ollie seemed to squirm at the thought. "You've never been to one, have you?"

"No," Oliver admitted, looking down. "But I've heard stories of drugs and crazy shooting and-"

I was too busy to hear the rest over my laughing. I looked up to see Ollie had stopped his explanation to give me an affronted look.

"Ollie-man, all I'm trying to say is that public doesn't mean penitentiary. The schools just get a bad rap because of all the pedophile teachers." Ollie paled a bit. "I'm just kidding! Geez. Prep school rich boy…" I mumbled the last part but Ollie's glare told me he heard it.

"Fine, wear whatever you want. We need to get out of here in five minutes though. I'll wait in the car."

"Copy that." I affirmed. With weekends like past few days, sometimes I got too used to the speakerphones…

XxxxXXXxxxX

Ollie and I got into his luxury car and took the thirty minute drive to the academy. Well, it would have been thirty minutes but Ollie managed to turn it into fifteen with all the shortcuts and breakneck speeds. The drive was relatively silent apart from my asking about the school. Oliver, distracted and hasty (apparently we were very late from all my "dawdling"), gave me useless answers in reply to my _important_ questions.

"'She had nice hair'?" I reiterated, snapping the door to Ollie's Mercedes shut. We were now walking towards the towering, gray-brick castle but I was more distracted by Ollie's terrible description than the fine architecture. "That's all you can give me about the hottest teacher in the place? What about her legs? Did she wear any outfits that could distract me from the Geography lesson? How 'bout her voice? Oh my God, did she have one of those voices that just fray your nerves? Kind of like she used to be a member of the View?"

"Bart, can we talk about this later? I need you to hurry it up." Ollie called as he walked quickly towards the gated entrance.

Dressed in a red hoodie and blue blazer (yes, I had slightly assented to the formal attire.), I jogged over next to Ollie and tried to keep up with his long legs without looking like a complete idiot. It proved difficult since the weather had dropped a few degrees, and I was in no mood for catching the flu from exerting myself in the cold. Thankfully, in less time than I thought, we were walking up to a door with a plaque inscribed, "Dean Chambray" in bold all caps.

I looked up at Ollie, who had stopped in front of the door and was now looking at the name with intensity.

"What's the deal? You were in such a rush to get here, but now you want to wait when we're right outside the door." Ollie shook his head and looked down at me with a small grin.

"No, I'm just amazed she's still the Dean after all these years. She was always the one busting me for getting into trouble back when I went to school here. Her office was like my second home; I absolutely hated her."

The thought of a young Oliver the troublemaker made me smile. It was hard to picture at first since it was now Oliver being the disciplinarian, but I couldn't forget Ollie's boisterous wild side as well.

"And now? Holding any grudges that might make you just wanna forget this school thing altogether?" I prodded hopefully. Ollie's grin grew as he chortled and shook his head, ruffling my hair.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"Duh!" The door in front of us opened just as Ollie extended his hand to turn the knob. A blonde, spindly-legged woman in her twenties greeted us with a sparkling grin framed by the plumpest pink lips I had ever seen. Her fair skin contrasted nicely with the green and blue knee-length coat she wore for protection against the cold outside.

"Odalé! How could you hate her?" I asked aloud. Ollie, who had been gawking along with me, snapped out of his thought process of thinking the Dean had gotten some really good plastic surgery to jab me in the side with his elbow.

"Shutup." He murmured warningly.

The young woman giggled at our childish exchange, drawing out attention back. "It's fine. If by 'her' you mean Dean Chambrays, she's waiting in her office for you. I had come out here after hearing your voices. I'm pleased to finally be meeting you, Mr. Queen."

She gave him flirty eyes as she rounded the receptionist desk to sit in her leather office chair. Ollie smiled, striding in the office behind her with the same goofy expression. Aye Dios mio, here we go.

"Likewise, _Miss_…?" He dropped the last part in basic flirting fashion. She blushed and giggled a bit.

"Actually, it's Mrs." She said, holding up her ring finger to show off the sizable diamond on it. I snorted at the revelation but I only full out laughed when I saw the incredulous look on Oliver's face.

"Oh ho ho, somebody call an ambulance, 'cause it looks like Queen just got burrrrrnnnnned!" He glared at me through slits, but I just continued cackling at his expense.

Finally, a chubby, elderly woman in a formal outfit opened the door behind the receptionists' desk, looking to see what all the commotion was about. I was wiping tears from my eyes but I could still make it out: this was Dean Chambray. She had white blonde hair that was curled perfectly underneath her austere, sour-looking face. She wore a purple pant suit with glasses hanging by a pink chain about her neck. In her hand she held two files which I could noticeably read "Allen" and "Queen" on the covers. I gulped at the thought of what might be in mine.

"Oh, Mr. Queen, it's amazing to see you again," she said, plastering on wide, fake grin. Ollie returned the formality, obviously used to the charades people used to get into rich people's pockets.

"Always a pleasure, Ms. Chambray. And may I say you're still doing a fine job running this establishment." I hid my scoff and eye roll. This love-fest might end up being too much for my poor stomach. If I had to endure any longer, I would surely hurl my breakfast.

"You're too kind, Mr. Queen, for it's you that's been doing a fine job running Queen Industries. I saw your stock this morning; very impressive…" She tutted in approval and Ollie ducked his head in mock-embarrassment. "Enough with that, how is one of my favorite Excelsior alumni doing?"

"Very well, thank you." He replied cordially.

"And you must be Mr. Bart Allen, our new student hopeful."

What do you do when a random stranger reaches out and hugs you? I didn't know so I just stood still and let the lady do it. After she let me go after an excruciatingly embarrassing moment, I stood up and tried to hide my flushed cheeks.

"Come, come, have a seat in my office," She told us eagerly, ushering us into her quaint office littered with papers, awards, and pictures of her shaking hands with dignitaries and the like. I could only imagine how each picture was just a ploy to get the snobs more comfortable with letting their little girls and boys go here. "So, Mr. Allen," she began, steepling her fingers and placing her ahead atop it. Her jutting eyes looked at me probingly. "What do you want from this school? Because it's not about what _you_ can do for this school; it's about what _this school_ can do for you."

Right, I'm so sure they didn't just switch the words around when they found out it was Ollie coming. I didn't say that of course, I merely shrugged.

"I guess a school that doesn't offer too heavy a workload. I can't really handle too much homework due to personal stuff, you know," Oliver had nudged my Chucks with his Italian shoe underneath the desk we sat in front of. I looked up at him and inquired, none-too-discreetly, "What? It's true!"

"I see," Dean Chambray said with a nod. She smiled. "Well, I can solemnly swear that your workload can be adjusted to suit your schedule better. We're very obliging in that sense. Anything else?"

"Yeah, do I have to wear that hideous uniform-" I began asking, but Ollie butted in suddenly.

"-No, ma'am! I think we got everything," Ollie interrupted, throwing me a dark Look. I grounded my teeth but conceded. Fine, I'd wear it…

"Perfect!" Dean Chambray announced with a genuine smile and dollar signs in her eyes. "I'll just have you sign these papers. As the chief signer, you will be recognized as Bart's guardian in all permissible situations. That's the arrangement in real life, I presume?" She leant forward, keenly awaiting his answer. It was no news that this could potentially be serious rag mag gossip, but Ollie thankfully shook his head in reply.

"The arrangement is a bit more complicated than that." He said, not meeting her hungry gaze as he signed the papers. I watched her face fall in disappointment at the deprived answer.

"Oh," she said somberly. "Very well. Thank you then for your benefaction then, Mr. Queen. And Mr. Allen, I'll see you next Monday."

"Whatever, lady. Can't wait." I replied snidely, jumping up from my chair and tearing out of the office. I heard Ollie apologize for my behavior and follow just as quickly behind me. I was in the hallway, stalking towards the wooden doors leading to the cold outside, when Ollie caught up to me. He grabbed me by my shoulder and spun me around, his jaw clenched in irritation.

"What was that, Bartholomew?" Bringing out the full name: He was mad. I knew it would be useless to try to run outside or try to escape his grasp for that matter, so I substituted by looking at the floor. But the moment I dropped my countenance to the scuffed wooden floor it was immediately lifted to look into Ollie's fuming expression. "No, you don't get to just act like that around people. Now answer me."

My eyes darkened with stubbornness. He wasn't the only one not liking the other's _tone_. This newfound authority he seemed to think he had was not going to be warmly welcomed, no matter how many nights he slept in a bed with me. My lips tightened in a malicious scowl.

"I can't believe you're pulling this same commanding stunt on me again. Even after I agreed to attend your stupid school with all these snobs."

"That's not a reason and you _know_ it. Tell me why you acted like an obstinate child in that room this instant."

"You've gone overboard, Queen. Ordering me around like this was _not_ part of the deal."

"Look, there was no 'deal.' As the leader, I make the rules and you follow them. If I ask you a question, you better be sure to answer it. Now, I'm only saying this one more time, and I better get an answer that explains your careless actions: What. Is. Your problem?" His short question ignited my even shorted temper.

"What's _your_ problem?" I snapped loudly. "You're acting like a total sap in there, schmoozing up the Dean. She's a pretentious snake and you're treating her as if she isn't trying to slither her way into your life and pocket. It's disgusting! You look pathetic!" I cried. Queen gave the hall a once-over to ensure no one could hear my outburst. When he saw that we were alone, he grabbed my arm painfully tight and pulled me closer.

"Keep your voice down and come on." He snarled dangerously low, tightening his grip around my arm and pushing the door to the outside open. Tears sprang to my eyes- from Queen's threatening words or from his iron grasp around my arm, I wasn't sure. He dragged me along, across the frosty grass of the campus past the front gates and to the nearly-deserted parking lot, the entire time with an unrelenting hold on my arm. When he roughly pushed me toward the car, releasing my arm finally, I clamped my mouth shut to stifle the inevitable whine.

"Get in," Queen ordered, not looking me in the eye. He climbed in, and, out of fear for other physical consequences, I carefully stepped into the passenger seat, sitting as far away from Queen as I could get to the point that I think I could've evaporated through the door. He stuck his keys into the ignition, started the car and began driving home in silence.

"Tense" seemed like such a sorry word to call the situation. I chose not to acknowledge what was sure to be an angry bruise that encircled my right bicep; instead I meditated on how furious I was to be treated like this. Like a child that could simply be manhandled into submission. Yeah, not happening in this lifetime.

Still sane enough to acknowledge Queen's obviously volatile mood swing, I stayed silent. I would just utilize this time to think up ways of escape. This was absolutely the last straw. The moment Oliver decided violence was the way to get me to listen was the day I booked it. I didn't care if I didn't have abilities at this point. I'd find another way to get them back. This situation was just hitting way too close to home.

I closed my eyes, fending off the memory. The horrible memory. I couldn't believe it. How could Ollie- I mean, Queen- How could he? The tears were getting harder and harder to choke back. By the time we pulled into the driveway of his mansion, for it was of no concern to me anymore, my face had contorted into one of inscrutable sorrow. No matter how hard I truly tried to rein in my emotions, the sob escaped. But before Queen could turn to face me, I was out of the car and running towards the backyard of the huge house.

I hurriedly climbed up the terrace and into an open window, landing in the room that held the few articles of sentiment I still had. The construction workers tools and plastic tarps covered a majority of the room, but I stepped over the miscellaneous articles to the drawer I had stashed my things: fake IDs, running shoes, comic books, and a few other items. I found my red backpack nearby and stuffed the items inside.

In my rush, my finger was pricked on a pin that stuck to the front of my bag. I sucked on the wound and studied the golden piece. The back had fallen off and now it was caught precariously to the front of the red material. I pulled it off, rubbing the words that read "JLA" in gold lettering, reminiscing on the day Oliver had given it to me.

"_You're part of the team now," _he had told me. The feeling that had rushed through my entire being was inexplicable at best. Inexplicable but still unforgettable to this day. The tears found their way out of my eyes the same way they had the day I was officiated into the team, my new family. It was too bad tears were the thing to seal my exiting the league as well. My lower lip quivered and I sobbed as I looked at the pin with utter disdain, chucking it across the floor.

My skin radiated with heat despite the cold outside and I took off the blazer and hoodie, wanting nothing left to remind me of Queen's wealth and generosity. I winced as the rubbing irritated the tender bruise on my arm. I glanced down at it but hurriedly looked away at its forming angriness. It was pretty nasty.

I wiped my tears away and turned to dig in the drawer for _my_ red hoodie. But I came up with nothing. I shuffled through the clothes Queen had bought me and ended up strewing them all across the floor. Still, nothing! Where was it?! The thought occurred to me Queen had brought it down to the guest room I had occupied in case I needed it. I slapped a hand to my forehead, forgetting my dire situation for a moment. Great! I couldn't run off without it! It was freezing outside and that was the only coat I had _he_ hadn't bought for me!

I sighed, realizing I would just have to tiptoe downstairs to get it. Quiet and calculating, I slipped out of my old room and snuck downstairs to the guest room. I heard Vic and AC playing their favorite video game Call of Duty: World at War online. I wistfully listened to their teasing repertoire. I gulped down the lump in my throat, resisting the urge to turn around and forget this horrible hour ever happened. I had to stick to my principals [1].

I stealthily slid past them to the double English doors leading to the guest room. I opened one of them and went inside. After peaking backwards through the crack of the door to ensure I wasn't followed, I turned around to begin my search but my breath immediately caught in my throat.

Oliver was sitting on my bed. I probably should have bolted right out the door I came through, coat be darned, but something stopped me. Was I dreaming? His wide-set shoulders were… Quivering? I had to do a double-take and smother the obnoxious, "HUH?" that threatened to escape my throat. He couldn't be cold because the fire was still crackling quietly in the corner of the room. That only meant one thing: Ollie was… _Crying_?

I noticed his blonde head was bowed onto familiar red fabric, my hoodie looking small draped over his long arms. Something in me dropped all devices and replaced it with feelings of guilt and concern.

He still seemed unaware of my presence even as I crept up to sit beside him on the bed. Wow, Arrow was really out of it. I watched him for a few more minutes as he sniffed and sobbed quieter than anyone I had ever listened to before. His crying was almost imperceptible, like he was just twitching uncontrollably. I surveyed with deep concern all the same. I had never seen him like this before and it hurt me inside to see his struggle finally express itself outwardly. It was like an episode of the Twilight Zone. I couldn't comprehend it.

I laid a hand on his broad back out of habit from past comfort scenes. I didn't have much experience consoling people, but doing this to my past girlfriends seemed to help the healing process somewhat. It seemed to have the opposite effect on Oliver though, who snapped his head up, looking completely startled as if caught in some totally illegal act.

"Bart-" He began, his breath hitching in his throat. His eyes were red-rimmed and watery still from the abruptly ended cry session, but I ignored it.

"I'm sorry," the words spilt out of my mouth and I wasn't entirely sure what I was apologizing for. The pain on his face just evoked the words right off my tongue before I could figure out why. I think, subconsciously, I knew. For being a brat, for acting out, for not giving Ollie a chance, for blaming others for my problems and running away… Again. These unspoken words hung heavily in the air along with the nonsensical apology.

Oliver laughed and I removed my hand from his shoulder to stare at him oddly. Violently furious, tearfully gloomy, and now preposterously happy? All in the past hour? Ollie was unquestionably crazy. "You're insane." He declared, shaking his head at me and wiping the few tears left in his eyes. Now I was sure he was certifiably ill. He was calling _me_ insane? "You come here after I-after I-" he didn't have the courage to speak the words out loud. "And _you're_ the one apologizing?"

I pretended to be mildly offended. "Well at least my mood swings aren't giving people whiplash." Ollie chuckled at the line I stole from the Twilight book. It was true though. "I think we've both been acting crazy the last few hours."

"True, but this isn't a forgive-and-forget situation, Bart." He said, looking agonizingly remorseful. His sigh was ragged as he continued. "What I did was inexcusable. And I-I'm so sorry." He admitted slowly and softly. I was afraid he was going to cry again so I stopped him before his face had the chance to break.

"Don't." I told him. He looked up, intrigued by my order. "Please, don't cry, please. I don't know what to do when you do that besides awkwardly sit here and feel like it's all my fault. You're right; what you did was inexcusable... And it hurt a lot." I paused as Ollie turned away regretfully. "But I'm not going to say I didn't provoke it either. I disrespected you and said a lot of things I didn't mean. You retaliated with things you didn't mean too. I guess you and I just have a lot to learn about each other's boundaries." I smirked reassuringly and Ollie mirrored the action with a shake of his head.

"You're still crazy." He announced. "But thank you. Thank you for forgiving me and not leaving like I was sure you'd do. I don't know what I would do if you did." The very thought caused him to grimace in anxiety.

"Yeah, good thing." I said sheepishly, toeing the backpack full of my things under the bed we sat upon. He caught the movement and laughed.

"Okay, c'mon, let's take a look at your arm and put some medication on it." He said, helping me to my feet even though I was perfectly capable. I turned around suddenly and picked up my red hoodie.

"First let me throw this in the wash. It's probably covered with your snot." I explained, turning the coat in my hands with mock-disgust. Ollie chuckled and hugged me close to his chest.

"Thank you for staying," His voice rumbled underneath my ear as he pressed me closer to his chest. "I'd miss this too much if you left."

His sincerity was almost as surprising as the day he gave me the pin, which I now realized I would definitely have to search for later. The mysterious feeling rushed through my veins again and suddenly my arms were maneuvered to hug Ollie eagerly back. For once, I was sure the feeling was mutual.

XxxxXXXxxxX

**A/N:** So Bart's going to school now; that should be interesting. I hope you guys didn't find this slashy- 'cause that wasn't the intention. I really love writing this and feedback makes it twice as fun. So review if you like.

[1] I stole this from _In Bruges_. It's a wickedly dark comedy and a must-see. I hate to love it, but I can't help myself!


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N:** Since I took so long, I gave you guys about 1500 extra words. Thanks for all your reviews. They seriously made me do this a lot faster (considering school is drawing to a close and finals are every second of my day!). Please, do it again, do it again! :P

**Disclaimer:** If I were to publish this, you'd probably never hear from me again. Why? Because the Feds would come knocking at my door saying that the CW filed a suit against me and now I'm getting arrested for infringing on their turf! So, yeah, I basically don't own.

Onward to Chapter 7!

XxxxXXXxxxX

Tugging at my striped red tie, I scowled at the reflection in the closet mirror, dressed in full prep school uniform. I pulled out the baby blue dress shirt that had been uncomfortably tucked into my waistband, letting it hang over my navy blue pants. I was half tempted to throw the matching blazer that made me look incredibly snooty out the window and claim I lost it, but Ollie knew me too well.

I sighed, fussing with the only thing I had control over: My hair. Earlier this week, I had gone school-supply shopping with AC and Oliver at the Wal-Mart. On our way, Ollie had spoken of a Tony and Guy that offered half-decent haircuts. I declined, defending my shaggy mane that had already begun to curl over my ears. After a long negotiation that ended with me acquiring a new XBOX video game, I got the haircut. It was a lot shorter than I had expected, but it was easy to twist into a faux hawk or other style. I would never admit it to Ollie, but my long hair had been getting on my nerves. Huh, I guess it was a win-win.

I would've smiled at the memory of my good fortune, but I was still annoyed at the image before me. It was so unlike me, as if I was looking at a really annoying version of myself that I would've enjoyed punching in the face. I closed the closet door, trying to forget what I'd just witnessed, and brushed my teeth in the adjacent bathroom.

Things had calmed down somewhat in the Justice League, with the exception of my attending school. For some reason, the whole team was buzzing with anticipation about the event even though it was only _me_ actually going to Excelsior. Nevertheless, whenever they got the chance, AC, Vic, Clark, and Ollie would pull out some story from their high school days and spin it so it sounded interesting to me.

More often than not, it bored me.

Suddenly, I heard Ollie's faint voice calling from the kitchen. I groaned. I had hoped that this moment would have taken longer to get to, but here it was. God, the week had just sped by.

I threw one final glance of disgust at the mirror in my bathroom before trudging out my door and over to the kitchen. The guys were all present, trying to get a last word into my head about their favorite sport or activity in hopes that I would join it. I sat down at one of the barstools surrounding the kitchen island where Ollie had laid out a bowl of cereal and grapefruit for me. I noticed his eyes light up with gleaming pride as he surveyed me in my uniform.

"If you break out the camera, I'll kill you," I dead-panned. Ollie's blissful expression faltered for a second before it was replaced with a bigger smile.

"Just have fun at school," he gushed cheerfully, patting my shoulder. Aye Dios mio, it was like I was stuck in the Twilight Zone. I ducked my head in embarrassment and started swirling my spoon in the Coco Puffs, hoping the milk turning brown would distract me from this terribly painful morning.

When I went to grab my orange juice, I suddenly found a trophy being passed into my hands instead of the glass cup. The figurine on the top of the trophy was wearing a Speedo and standing in a diving position. I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion and stared at the trophy's owner.

"What's this?" I asked AC.

He grinned, apparently glad I asked, "It's my diving trophy. We competed against Excelsior one year and they were pretty good. Not as good as me, of course, but if you were to try out for the team, I'd let you keep that."

I growled. "What the eff am I supposed to do with a frickin' diving trophy?" I seethed at his infuriating reason.

"Baaart," Ollie warned from behind me. My back stiffened, and I apologized quietly before turning my attention back to the unrelenting super swimmer.

"You could show it off to your new friends, and then they would worship you." AC rationalized like it was the most obvious answer since 2+2.

"The bottom says you got this in 1998- I was only six at the time!" I cried in incredulity at the smirking blonde man.

AC picked at his nails to avoid eye contact. "It's nothing Clark can't change with his heat vision."

I growled. Enough was enough. "Stop this!" I ordered loudly and the other members looked up at me like I was crazy. "No more trophies. No more sweet-talking me to join your sport. No more reminiscing on 'the good ole' days.' Just stop! Even if I did want to join a sport or activity, which, by the way, is highly unlikely, it would be one_** I **_choose. Not you."

The team looked more than a little startled by my outburst, and I noticed Clark and Vic trying to stealthily hide their medals and trophies under the table. I rolled my eyes. These four were impossible. As a tense silence hung in the air, it was Ollie who finally broke it.

"Nobody's going to try to convince you of anything," He reassured, looking down at me with a hand on my shoulder. "We just want you to be happy at your school."

Great. If there was anything Ollie was good at, it was making me feel guilty when his intention was to support me.

"Yeah, you don't have to join the swim team if you don't want to," AC said with a pained expression as he took away his prize.

"Or football," Clark added.

"Or wrestling," Vic piped in somberly.

The side of my mouth rose at their obvious displeasure. At least they were giving me my space, I reasoned. I nodded in thanks and continued eating my breakfast. But once I heard Ollie's keys jangling behind me, I hurriedly slurped the rest of the bowl.

-That was one of the great things about living with the guys: they didn't care much for manners.

After I tossed my dirty bowl in the sink, I turned around and started following Oliver out the door. Once we got into the garage, however, he stopped and turned to give me an inquisitive stare.

"What are you doing?" he asked. I pretended to think for a second.

"Going to school. Duh." I answered flippantly.

"Sorry, not with me. We've got a big client coming into the office, and I've got to be there all day to seal the deal." Oliver said. Realization dawned on my face as I remembered him telling me about it. I only remembered a few vague details about the arrangement because I typically let my eyes glaze over when Ollie talks about "business."

"Is that the client that will let all your workers keep their jobs?" I gathered. He nodded as he began ushering me back to the kitchen.

"Yeah, since the big Market scare, Queen Industries isn't doing too well." He said with a tone of bitterness. I knew, of course, Ollie had nothing to worry about (he had all the money he would even need) so that naturally meant he was worrying about his employees. It always seemed like the guy's heart was on everyone else but himself. He subconsciously pulled out his Blackberry to check the DOW as we arrived back in the kitchen.

"Well, if that's the case, who do I get a ride from?" I asked, looking up at Ollie's regretful expression. Apparently, his stock still wasn't doing too well.

"Huh," Ollie replied distracted. His eyes glanced at something on his screen and then they widened. "Is that the time!? Crap. I gotta go. Uhh…" He looked at me in frenzy, wanting to say something but forgetting what it was.

"It's all right," I assured. "I'll just go with Vic and AC."

"Right, okay." He said, calming down a little. "So you've got your backpack, cell phone, and lunch money?"

"Yeah, about that lunch money…" I began but Ollie gave me a deadly, don't-you-dare-try-it stare. I rolled my eyes. "Yes, yes, I have it. Just go ahead and do whatever it is you do."

"Yeah, right, have a good day at school. And _be good_." Before I could get another sarcastic remark out, he hugged me goodbye and then rushed out the door.

I whistled. "Crazy." I stated, jabbing a thumb at the man who just left.

"He's just excited about your first day. If those people's jobs weren't on the line, he probably would've stayed to take you." Clark said, readjusting his tie. "Speaking of jobs, I better get to mine. Lois is going crazy with me being absent all the time." With some final parting words, Clark sped out the door to the Daily Planet. I tried not to turn too green with envy at his super speed. I had been without mine for an entire week now but I didn't have much time to reflect on this drawback for long as Vic and AC stood up from the breakfast table.

"You ready to go, buddy?" AC asked, wiping his hands on a dishtowel.

_No, definitely not_, but I decided to keep that little comment to myself as I gathered up my things. I nodded in affirmation and slung my weighty backpack over one of my shoulders. Vic grabbed his keys off the counter and the three of us walked toward the garage where his baby was kept. Hopefully I came back here the same way I went out. With luck like mine, I found that highly unlikely…

XxxxXXXxxxX

Through Vic's car window, I stared at the huge brick building with wide, anxious eyes. AC must have caught the look on my face through the passenger's mirror because he turned to offer me an encouraging grin.

"Don't worry about it; just remember, confidence is key." I nodded. Gee whiz, great advice; like I didn't already know that.

Vic rolled the car to a stop and turned around to bestow a few more words of enlightenment.

"AC's right. But you also need to be nice… To everyone. We have enough enemies as it is. The best way to fend off these guys is to surprise them with kindness."

I tried not to gag at the phrase. "Surprising them with kindness? Are you_ kidding_ me?" Vic narrowed his eyes at me, so I caved. "Fine, fine, I'll work the kindness angle. Whatever."

Smiling, AC and Vic said their farewells. I did the same while exiting the pearl white and electric blue vehicle. Once I was out, I turned around to wave goodbye miserably. My wide-puppy dog eyes and small frown were placed strategically on my face as my eyebrows creased in the middle of my forehead. Maybe if I looked pathetic enough they would take me home and forget about this whole thing. Unfortunately, my teammates merely laughed at my charade before driving off at perilous speeds.

I sighed and turned to face my imminent doom, noticing for the first time many of the students eyeing me and the scene I just made with noticeably curiosity. I inhaled deeply and steeled myself for whatever this school threw at me. Harkening back on AC and Vic's advice, I held my head up high and nodded cordially at a few of the students on my way to the large double doors. The students returned with unsure smiles and confused eyes.

Yeah, I knew their advice would only make me look crazy…

Upon making it past that first big step, I let out the breath I had been holding and leaned against a wall. Nobody paid much attention to my entrance to the building since they were busy talking loudly to friends and gabbing books out of their lockers. A bell sounded overhead, and I realized it was time for my first class, which I had _no clue_ how to get to. I hastily dug in my backpack for a map and pulled it out. With wild eyes, I scoured the paper for my room's location.

207….209…210! I found it! What? On the other side of campus!? Again, brooding on my lack of speed, I ran out the doors and tried to push past the crowds of students making their way to class. By the time I arrived at the other building, I was five minutes late for class. Weren't they supposed to give tours for this sort of thing? Shaking my head at the school's inefficiency, I darted inside and jogged up the stairs. My heavy footsteps echoed down the hallway until I landed at a stop by the oak door marked with the numbers 210.

I prayed that the class was facing backwards so when I entered, I wouldn't have to endure the analytic gazes. Slowly, I crept inside, trying to remain inconspicuous. Not surprisingly, the teacher stopped talking and turned sideways to catch me trying to find an empty seat. The English instructor was a tall man with thinning gray hair and faint creases around the sides of his mouth and eyes. He looked to be probably around the age of forty-five and he wore an amiable expression that made one instantly less tense.

"Bartholomew, I presume?" he said in a British accent that caught me off guard. This guy wasn't American? Well, he did look a little European now that I looked at him. I shook my head. Focus, Bart.

"No, um, it's just Bart… Sir." I corrected, uncomfortable to have the class's attention pinned on me. I shifted my eyes towards them once or twice, and noticed quite a few of them whispering. A blonde girl had just told another red-head something in her ear and the red head nodded with acute realization. It was obvious they were talking about me, but I couldn't see why…

"I'm sorry, Bart. I'm Dr. Lexington. Welcome to the class, or rather, welcome to the school. We're pleased to have you," I timidly nodded in thanks as Dr. Lexington went on. "Please, sit anywhere you like."

Since there weren't many seats left, I chose to pick the one closest by me which was in the second row by a girl with pale skin and frizzy brown hair tied back in a frilly pink ponytail. She was looking at me in an unnerving manner that made me squirm. I looked over to glare at her but, before I had a chance to tell her to "knock it off," she burst into a wide grin, revealing pink-rimmed braces.

I hesitated before returning with my own half-hearted grin. Quickly shifting in my seat, I grabbed my backpack and placed the notebook and pencil on the desk, pretending to listen to Dr. Lexington's lecture on Rubrics. That girl was plum-crazy, as AC would say. I decidedly ignored her for the rest of the class period.

The lecture lasted for about an hour, but I had a hard time listening since whenever I chose to look away, I would find another person staring at me with wide, curious eyes. The heat of everyone's gaze was smothering, and I half-ran out of the classroom once the bell sounded its end.

By the time lunch came around, I wondered how I had survived three full classes of so many people looking at me with prying eyes. Relieved to be out of class, I walked out of the cafeteria with my tray in hand into the brisk weather outside. There were a lot of tables set up near the fences that looked out on Excelsior's scenic view. Most of them were being used by the different cliques the private school possessed, probably going by whoever's daddy made the most cash.

Since mingling with rich kids was right up there with listening to stuffy operas on my list of Things That Put Me to Sleep, I vied for seating on the bleachers near the outdoor basketball court.

I had only just nibbled on my turkey sandwich when I suddenly found myself being hauled up by my arm.

"Hey!" I yelled at the grip on my forearm. Thankfully it wasn't the arm that was still bruised from the last time Ollie grabbed me, but that didn't mean it was any less _annoying_. I looked at the burly boy with the steep brow, and jutted chin, giving him the appearance of a primitive Neanderthal. I growled at him, but he simply looked forward like he didn't understand exactly what was going on, just that he needed to contain me.

"How's it going, Allen? Got a few questions for you," I turned to the boy standing in front of me and his face finally connected with a name in my head. Harry Tucket VI, son of Harold Tucket of Tucket Oil Mines. Tucket was a household name in Kansas, and I had heard Ollie grumble about Harold quite often. It was apparent Oliver wasn't the only one about to have a problem with a Tucket. I glared fiercely at the raven-haired, smugly smiling young man that stood at the same height I did. Sadly, my glare only served to make him more self-righteous so instead I softened into my trademark smirk.

"Well, why don't you take your questions and suck it, Tucket!" I tilted my head in mockery, offering a taunting smile, but the blue-eyed boy didn't budge.

"So you know my name?" he concluded. Wow, nice observation; I guess snot like him were extra perceptive. "Well, I'm not surprised. My father does have the second most profitable company in all of Kansas after all. The first one being… Queen Industries." He narrowed his eyes at me as he said the word with obvious distaste.

"So, Queen is better than the Tuckets. Who isn't?" I asked sardonically. He laughed at my joke with closed eyes, shaking his head. God, did he just practice this villainy crap in front of a mirror? Or did he just lounge around all day watching old horror movie reruns? "Stop giggling and tell me what any of that has to do with me."

"Oh, this has everything to do with you. You're the one who just blips up on the radar and is suddenly known as Queen's protégé. Not to mention national headlines ask questions about you _all _the time. And now I have something that even USA Today and People can't get: my own personal interview."

I scoffed. "Good luck with that, I'm not telling you _anything_."

"I figured you might be less than cooperative." He said, jerking his head at the caveman-esque boy, who then punched me in the gut. I groaned from the impact of his fist knocking the air out of me. Oh how I wish I could super-speed and teach these guys who they were messing with. Instead I just looked up with a grin, panting from exertion.

"You think you can just beat answers out of me?" I asked, sneering. I held the arm that wasn't being mangled by a dense giant protectively over my torso.

"Not answers, just answer. I only have one question for you, Bart. Why are you with Queen?" he said seriously. I had noticed quite a large group of teens had abandoned their lunch to eavesdrop on the "interview." "Be completely honest, please. Is it some sort of fag relationship?" A few of the onlookers laughed at the comment.

I rolled my eyes and smiled. "You're asking me about fags when you it's _your _boyfriend groping me?"

This seemed to strike a nerve with both of them, and I immediately felt it in the air. Both of their faces contorted into those of flushed anger. The crowd seemed to sense it too because there was a raucous of yells and people chanting. Oh crap, I really need to learn to keep my big mouth shut…

"You're dead!" Harry snarled, launching at me, his bodyguard following in the beatdown. The crowd around us erupted into bellows, and then everything became hazy and very, very painful.

XxxxXXXxxxX

I woke up and everything hurt. Parts of my body that I was sure were never beaten pained me to move. I winced as I slid backwards into a sitting position against the wall. I was in the nurse's office, sitting on one of the exam tables/cots. That hygienic paper had wrinkled underneath me and a counter with medical supplies stood on my right. The thin beige curtain was drawn open, and I could make out the nurse checking the temperature of another student who looked perfectly healthy. It was hard to make out anything else since my eye felt bruised and hurt when I opened it.

I leant my head back against the wall and tried to take inventory of all the fractures and injuries. After five minutes of making sure everything worked, I found it was only my wrist that felt like it had been sprained very badly. Everything else was simply bruised, sore, or bleeding. I wanted to ask the nurse what had happened, how I got here, and if I could just leave and drop out of school forever, but I never got the chance as the door flung open suddenly.

I watched as the nurse and patient jumped at the sound of the door hitting the wall, looking with startled expressions at the tall, blonde-haired man who rushed in afterwards. Ollie spied me looking at him through the curtains and hurried over. The nurse stormed after him with a tight look on her face.

"You can't go in there!" she said and Ollie turned around with an angered expression. The nurse stopped and began stuttering. "Oh, Mr. Queen. You were walking so fast, I-I couldn't see. Um, yeah, Bart's right there. Just-Right there… Come see me when you're ready." She nodded and backed out of the room, closing the curtains behind her.

"Geez, Ollie, you gave me a heart attack when you came in," I said. My throat was sore so the comment came out in a scratchy voice. "Thought someone died."

Ollie turned back around, his angry eyebrows softening into those of concern when he saw me. Man, I must've looked as bad as he felt. He walked over and sat on the edge of the cot, eyeing my face in concern. He leaned a bit too hard on my leg and I winced involuntarily. He stood up in a flash, apologizing.

"It's okay. Really." I said, moving my legs farther to the left so he could sit down again.

He shook his head. I don't know if it was because of what I said or because he didn't want to sit down. Something told me it didn't have to do with resting his legs. "No, no it's not. This is all my fault."

I sighed. "Look, boss-man, I know leadership requires you to take responsibility for stuff, but I highly doubt you had anything to do with this." I replied. My throat was improving the more I talked, but, with the way my mouth got me into these situations, I wasn't positive that was a good thing.

"You don't understand. I knew that people wanted to ask you questions, they even mailed in threats so I would give them an interview, but I just hid it. I tried to protect you from it, but it didn't work. The threats were still there and you ended up paying for it." He looked at my battered body in regretful dismay. He walked over and gently took one of my arms, scanning the livid bruises and nasty scrapes I'd received. "Maybe school was a bad idea…"

I tried to shake my head, but it hurt too badly to move. "No, I want to stay," I said firmly, looking at Ollie, who reacted with a questioning gaze. "I don't want to leave after only one day of attending. I haven't even been to my fourth period class yet, haven't even tried the food now that I think of it. The only thing worse than going to this school is leaving because something 'bad' happened. I mean, I thought we were supposed to be superheroes, Ollie; superheroes never run away from a battle."

"I know, Bart, but you're not thinking about this. You got hurt-" Oliver picked up my other arm to examine the damage, but I pulled it away.

"Well, nobody leaves battle without a few bruises… Or sprained wrists."

"You sprained you wrist?!" Ollie exclaimed.

I rolled my eyes, guarding the injured appendage from the nagging blonde man. "Not the point. (But yeah, I did.) Anyways, what I'm trying to say is that I need to do this. I need to show that I'm not scared of people here or anywhere else. If I let Harry get away with this, a lot more will come in his place. _You_ think about it."

I never would have thought there would be a role-reversal like this -That I would be the one trying to go to school, and Ollie would be fighting against the idea. Weird.

"Okay, you can stay, but when we get home, you are getting your abilities back." Ollie told me. Despite all the pain that was coursing through my veins, I couldn't stop my face from breaking out into a grin.

"Fine by me!" I told him. "Ah…" I winced from the way yelling had shot a stinging pain through my gut.

"And if you plan on going to school any time this week, that means you get some rest and heal beforehand. This means getting on a bed and sleeping for at least two days, Bart. Got it?"

I mulled over this like I had a choice in the matter. Getting bed rest for two entire days sounded terribly boring, but I nodded nonetheless. I supposed if I wanted school, I'd have to be functional first.

I nodded slowly and Ollie smiled. "Good. Let's go home then so we can wrap up that wrist and take the bracelet off the other."

"Sounds good." I answered in a strained voice. Oliver just stared at me since I was making no attempt to move.

"Do you want me to carry you?" he asked tentatively.

"No!" I flushed at the idea of people seeing Ollie carry me. I'd probably bury myself in a hole if that happened. "Let me just… Get my bearings. Hang on."

Ollie helped me off the table, and I allowed a minimal, very minimal, amount of support from his as we made the surprisingly long trek to the car. I was breathing hard through my teeth and leaning heavily against Oliver by the time we got to the car. The cold outside wasn't helping my injuries at all.

Oliver opened the door and helped me into the passenger seat. I dropped in and leaned back against the seat in relief, feeling drained. The blonde man reached over as he buckled me in, and I turned my head to avoid knocking heads. When I looked to the side, I noticed this was a different car from the one I was used to.

"Who's car is this?" I asked, surveying the car's interior through my swollen eye.

"It's one of the school's extra ones." It hurt to look confused but somehow I managed it, and Ollie continued. "I arrived here by helicopter." He told me and shut the door. I watched him incredulously as he rounded the car and plopped into the driver's seat, starting the car.

"You got here. In a helicopter." I stated with whole disbelief written on my features.

"When I got the call, I was all the way at the office, remember? I was supposed to be proposing that important presentation?" Suddenly, a wave of guilt crashed into me. Man oh man, did I ever pick the worse time to get beat up. If possible, my head seemed to hurt worse from the idea.

"God, Ollie, I'm sorry, I-I-" Ollie thankfully interrupted my fumbling apology.

"It's all right, Bart. By the time the school called, I already got through the worst of it. My people are capable of continuing without me. Although I still need to shoot in a few emails." Subconsciously he pulled out his Blackberry, scrolling through the applications.

"Whoa, eyes on the road, boss man. I've already got enough injuries for one day," I said. Ollie smiled, continuing to look at the Blackberry. I don't know how he did it, but the guy was actually a better driver when he _wasn't_ paying attention. Sometimes I was jealous of Ollie's sharpened senses. Then I thought about all the work I would have to do to get them, and suddenly the idea seemed tedious.

When we arrived home, Ollie once again helped me out of the car. Luckily, only Vic was home since AC had decided to go Christmas shopping and Clark was still at work, probably saving the world from a nuclear weapon. With worry etched on his face, Vic met us at the door.

"Do you have him?" Vic asked Ollie as he helped me inside, eyeing all my injuries and the wince I expressed every time I took a step.

Ollie nodded. "Yeah, he's pretty light… Too light. Have you been eating?" He directed the question at me and a look of mock-innocence crossed over my face.

"Sort of." I replied.

"Bart…" Ollie warned testily.

"Well since I haven't had my superspeed, I haven't been very hungry…" I explained. Ollie gave me a look of understanding.

"Okay, let's get you on the couch and then we can fix that." Oliver said. He led me over to the couch in the formal living room as Vic followed behind us. "First some rules about getting your ability back."

I tried my hardest not to groan in utter displeasure.

"One, don't use them right away. We don't know what affects this inhibitor may have had on you, but you won't be used to them, especially in your current condition." I nodded. Although I would be happy to have them back, really all I wanted to do at that point was lie down. My head was killing me. "And two, don't steal with them. Our abilities need to be used to protect people not for our own personal gain. Lastly, go back to being the Bart we all know and love. Eat me out of house and home and make us laugh when we're about to throttle you, all right, bud?"

I smiled and pretended to think the arrangement over. "You got yourself a deal."

"All right," Ollie took up the wrist with the bracelet on it and pressed a few buttons on the top of the metal part. "Inhibitor 37832 cease exposure." He ordered then handed my hand over to Vic.

"Cease exposure. Clearance level five. Victor Stone and Oliver Queen." Vic said. I didn't know how they come up with such a weird system of stopping the bracelet, but once I felt the sting of the needle exiting my wrist, an odd sensation quickly overtook my body and my stomach started growling; I knew I was once again Bart Allen, the fastest guy alive. Yes!

"Wow," I breathed. "I feel great!" Ollie and Vic smiled, but then the Arrow's face turned solemn.

"Remember what I said, Bart. You can have your test drive later, for now just go to bed," he advised me lightly.

"All right, fine, just get me some aspirin. My head still hurts." I stated, making my way to the guest bedroom. It was easier to walk now that my ability was back, but the renewed strength didn't magically heal my infirmaries.

"Okay, but I need to tape up your wrist too," Ollie called after me.

I yelled back that I heard him and closed the room's door behind me. When I turned around, I gasped in response to what I saw.

"What the-?" I whispered. The girl was giving me that same wide grin with the pink-rimmed braces. I processed her face and realized she was the one from my English class! "You!"

"Hey, Bart!" she said loudly. My eyes widened. Oh crap, if Ollie saw her I would be in the biggest trouble of my life, and I just got my abilities back too! I walked over, covered her mouth with my hand and pressed a finger against my lips.

"Shhh!" I whispered urgently. I removed my finger and looked her carefully in her big, brown eyes. "Look, I don't know how you got here, stalker, but you have to leave. _Now_!"

She pried my hand off her face and looked me squarely in the eye, a stubborn look on her face. "No, I don't think I will. I know your secret, Bart Allen. That means you start treating me with some respect."

I don't know how I managed it with a black eye, but my eyes popped out of my head. I put my hands on her shoulders and almost shook her. "You know?!"

She nodded proudly. "I was spying on you a couple seconds ago. I know everything."

I heard a knocking at the door and I turned around to look at it.

"Bart, what's going on in there?" I heard Ollie's deep voice resound through the door. The door knob began turning …

Oh GOD! Why me?

XxxxXXXxxxX

**A/N:** Woo, done! I've had that plot in my head for what seems like ages. Glad I finally got it out on paper! Reviews really did help me get this out though. Thank you so much for all your kind words, critique, and comments. If there's anything that I need changed, go ahead and give me some feedback.

Have nice days,

~Sarah

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	8. Chapter 8

**A/N:** Thank you all for your thoughtful reviews. **Babyhilts**, thank you so much for your thoughtful review; I'm sorry I was unable to reply to it. It was one of the main reasons I wanted to push this chapter out though.

**Disclaimer:** Does my name look like Alfred Gough (or whoever owns Smallville)?

Chapter 8

XxxxXXXxxxX

My heart was beating a tattoo on my chest as my mind raced with thoughts on how I planned to get rid of this girl. I gripped her shoulders as I searched for a place to hide her. There was a tall, white armoire in the corner of the large guest room that I suddenly began backing her into.

"What are you doing?" the unassuming sneak asked me as she stepped backwards with my rough shoving.

"I need to hide you," I insisted, continuing my pushing. "If Ollie finds out you're here… Well, I can't tell you what will happen 'cause I don't know. But do you really wanna mess with a guy like him?"

Right then, I had already opened the armoire doors and was attempting to force her inside. Unfortunately, she was persistent and held her arms against the sides of the closet, impeding me from driving her forward.

"I think I'll take my chances," she said thoughtfully. I would have yelled at her infuriating reply if Ollie weren't outside the door, waiting to wrap my injuries, which, I might add, were smarting a great deal at that point. She turned around and faced me, looking solemn. "Okay fine. I know you've been through a lot today. I was at school; I heard about that fight thing with Harry."

I cringed inwardly. I hated to think that the news of my "fight" had already spread like a forest fire throughout the whole school.

"So, I'll cut you a break and get inside this cabinet until you say different. But once Ollie leaves, that's when you give me a tour of the place." She bartered, but I was already shaking my head before she had even finished her sentence.

"No, no deals. You trespassed on private property. A criminal like you should be lucky I don't call the cops."

"And you're lucky I'm not calling the Planet." I tensed visibly at her words. "Didn't you hear what I said before? I _know_ your _secret_ so I would be careful with what you threaten me with, Bartholomew."

I bit my tongue. Hard. I wanted to lash out so badly, tell her I'd visit her on the weekends in Juvie or wave at her as she cleaned up trash on the freeway, but I had to admit: she was speaking truth. If anybody were to know about my abilities, they would soon discover Ollie's and Clark's. I couldn't risk it, not when all of my buddies had worked their whole lives to hide their powers.

I nodded, slowly, a look of grim regret spread across my face. A knock on the door behind me reminded me of my urgency. "Okay, I'll give you a tour. But you have to promise not to be seen."

"I'll think about it." She said sarcastically as she stepped inside the armoire. I groaned and grabbed a pair of pajamas from the armoire as I shut the two thin wooden doors. I hurriedly got out of my clothes, careful not to do it in front of the armoire in case the snoopy girl stuck her nose where it _really_ didn't belong. I had to change into the pin-striped pajamas or else Ollie would become suspicious why it had taken me so long to answer the door. Most of the time, it sucked how perceptive the guy could be.

Once I tugged the long-sleeved pajama top over my head, I stuck my foot inside the pants. Sadly, in a brilliant display of embarrassment, I lost my balance and fell face flat onto the Persian rug. That was enough for Ollie to totally disregard any privacy I had requested and rush into the room.

"Bart!" The blonde man exclaimed when he saw me groaning on the floor in pain. The fall had brought renewed soreness to my already aching wounds. He rushed over and kneeled on the rug beside me, tenderly helping me into a sitting position. "Bart, buddy, what happened?"

"Nothing," I replied, too embarrassed of the answer. He stared at me pointedly, trying to faze me out of the lie. I sighed, feeling slightly intimidated by the intent look. "I… I lost my balance when I was trying to put my pants on." I could swear I heard a snort from a_ certain _armoire. Luckily, Oliver didn't hear the muffled noise above his own loud chortle.

"You fell… While you were putting your pants on?" he laughed as he tried to ask the question. I glared murderously, but it had no affect on the guy getting a hoot at my expense. No, all my "thunder" had escaped me at that point.

"It isn't funny!" I yelled petulantly to both Ollie and the girl spying on us. He shook his head, and stopped laughing, a smile still tugging at his lips.

"You're right. It's not funny." He conceded, although it was obvious by his forced serious expression he didn't think so. "Sorry. Are you okay? Why aren't you in bed?"

"Uhh," I struggled to come up with a lie since it had been only one moment ago I had stuffed the girl in the closet.

"Nevermind, c'mon," he said as he helped me walk over to the large bed. We both sat down, me on the edge of the bed and him on the armchair opposite me. He placed the medical supplies on the side table and began unwrapping the gauze. Once done, he took up my wrist gently, causing me to hiss in pain. "Hmm, I think this might be a little more than sprained. I'll ask Clark to take a look at it when he gets home. For now, let's just wrap it up."

With that, he secured the bandages around my wrist and hand before tapering it down with metal clasp. Afterwards, Ollie set to disinfecting my cuts and scrapes with cream that made me grit my teeth. He proceeded butterfly-bandaged a few of the deeper scratches around my eye. Finally finished, he wiped his hands to signal the job done.

"There. That should do until I can get Clark to look at the rest." Ollie said whilst packing up the supplies into the first aid kit. I had been twisting a latex glove around my fingers as the whole thing happened, and I stuffed it back in before Ollie snapped the case shut. "You can rest for an hour but I'm going to wake you up once it's up to make sure you don't have a concussion."

I noticed in my peripherals that the girl currently hiding out of sight was becoming fidgety and impatient by the obvious movement from the armoire. If Ollie had been looking that way, he would surely spot her, thus I had to get him out of here before that happened.

"Dude, seriously? Just back off and give me some space." I shot out. I cringed inwardly as Ollie replied with a disappointed frown. Okay, there were probably a trillion _better _ways to handle that and I just picked the worst possible one. Why didn't I just punch the guy in the face after giving me a hundred bucks? That wouldn't have been half as ridiculous.

"I'm going to pretend that's just your head injury talking," Ollie told me slowly as he rose up to loom over me. I looked up at him, trying to mask my guilt with a solemn expression. "Get some rest." He added the last part in a clipped tone that was attempting to rein in the faint traces of anger.

Once Ollie left, I banged my head against the wall behind me. I only got one deliberate knocking in before I realized I was causing myself even more pain from a bruise on my brown-haired crown. I closed my eyes tightly in sheer irritation with myself and only opened them again when I heard the scuffling of someone walking over.

"Man, I thought he'd never leave," the girl said in her annoying voice that probably wouldn't have been a problem under different circumstances but was now the absolute worst thing I could torture my ears with. "Let's go."

Eyes closed, I shook my head, tenderly touching the back of my aching stinging head. "Just wait a second. Oliver's hearing is pretty good so he could catch us if we were to leave now."

"Where's he going?" the girl inquired as she walked closer.

"How should I know? Probably to do some important deed that will save all humanity. We just can't bug him right now." I explained, a tinge of guilt in my voice as I remembered how my recent escapade had cancelled his chance to cohort with the rich business dudes.

"No, I'm not waiting anymore. If you're not willing to give me a tour, I'll take one myself. I'll probably find some dirt on the way, but, hey, your loss, right?" Her eyes were smug as she wore her devious smirk. I gritted my teeth, grabbing her arm roughly and dragging her towards the door.

"Fine, just stay close. If any of the other guys spot you, we'll both be in big trouble. I don't even want to know what will happen to you." I said, casting her a pitying look. Nothing. Not even a twitch. This girl was like talking to a rock. A rock that didn't bother looking scared even when you were telling the truth about their imminent doom.

We began our "tour" moments later. Once as I was showing her the monstrous kitchen, I spotted Vic on his way to get a soda. I ended up pushing her inside the pantry and then wheedling myself between the refrigerator and the wall. Thankfully, my lack of eating made me thin enough to fit quite snugly. Something Ollie wouldn't be happy about, but I'd been letting the guy down so much lately I doubted my weight was that huge a concern.

After Vic left, I showed her a few more rooms, begging her not to touch stuff. On our forbidden trek, I got to know more about the pesky girl, finally uncovering her name as "Janice" and finding out she worked for the Excelsior's student newspaper. I sighed. I should've known. She was like a younger, less hot version of Chloe with her perpetual inquisitiveness.

After viewing five or six room, I stopped once I arrived in front of the office, hearing a noise downstairs. I tipped my head over the balcony to make sure no one was on their way to the room downstairs to check on me. I waited a few minutes and after I was assured nobody was coming, I turned my head to continue the dreadful excursion.

"This doesn't look like sleeping, Bartholomew," Oliver said, looking down his nose with a disapproving look.

I tried not to scream at the blonde man's sudden reappearance. Instinctually, my panic-filled eyes shifted to where Janice had been standing and discovered she was now climbing into one of the cupboards housing the flat-screen television. Huh, I guess all this hiding had made her an expert.

"Oliver," I croaked out as I tried to find my bearings amongst the feelings of surprise and intense relief. "Umm, do you… Wanna play a video game with me?"

Oliver blinked in disbelief. "A _what_?"

"Video game." I repeated, although I was cringing on the inside. How did I always come up with the most dim-witted lies? Fast on my feet didn't exactly make me fast in my head. "You know, the new one you bought me still hasn't been opened." I added on the bribe to make it more believable.

Sadly, Ollie still wore a blank expression. "I just got out of your room like thirty minutes ago and you were on the verge of collapsing right there. But you got up to--?"

"-Play a video game with my best amigo. What's the problem?" I asked, feigning oblivion.

My blonde leader turned his eyes upwards and whispered to the heavens, "Knew those things would be too addictive…" He fixed his gaze back on me with renewed determination. "C'mon, Bart. As your leader, I'm telling you no video games for two weeks, after which I'll _know _you will be fully rested."

I seethed. How was I stuck getting grounded by the same guy I was _protecting_? "Agh, I could kill her," I grumbled as Ollie maneuvered me back downstairs, towards the guest room.

"C'mon, it's only two weeks. No reason to start threatening people over it." Pft, if only he knew… I glared darkly ahead as I reentered the room and got into the bed. Ollie must have took it for resentment over the video game privilege instead of my hatred towards a certain student reporter that was treating my life like her own personal gossip playground. Arrow sat on my bed, staring at me with a half-hearted grin.

"It's not the end of the world, Bart. Maybe taking a break from them will be a good thing. You seem to have an almost unhealthy attachment to them." I flushed at Ollie's reasoning. He thought I had an addiction to video games? Crap, wrong way, detour!

"What? No, it's not about that. I don't care about that stuff," I hastily recovered, waving a dismissive hand in the air. _Please, don't make it three weeks_, I prayed; _I can't handle all the symptoms of withdrawal!_

Ollie tilted his head in curiosity. "What's it about then?"

"Well, erm, let's say there's this 'thing' that going on with a 'friend' of mine." I decided on taking the this-'friend'-is-actually-a-version-of-me route.

"A friend from school? You made one already? On your first day? That's great, Bart!" I forced a smile at Ollie's elation. Yeah right, the only friend I made today was Janice and "great" isn't how I would describe her in the least. I nodded nonetheless.

"Great, right." I affirmed with little enthusiasm. "So, my friend was telling me about how his family is being threatened by this person. Not anything bad but enough to cause some harm to the family's secrets."

"'Secrets'?" Ollie reiterated with furrowed brows. "What kind of secrets?"

"Uh, his dad is the creator of nasal spray." I offered. What the fu-? Do I just pull this stuff out of my butt? Oddly enough, the man took it at face value and continued listening intently. "Yeah, lot of secrets there... in the nasal industry. Anyways, his dad doesn't know the secret is being threatened because my friend, Johnny, is doing all he can to protect it."

"And you're telling me that's what you were angry about? Not the video games?" Ollie asked frankly. I glowered, acting as if the story was as believable as the sky is blue.

"Yes, look, if you're just going to blow this off-" I started, affronted by the prospect of it being ridiculous. Ollie quickly rose his hands in surrender and I relaxed to ask him seriously, "So, what should I- Johnny do?"

Oliver mulled the story over for a moment. "Honestly, I think Johnny should tell his dad about the threat. He could probably handle it better than Johnny could." My face fell at his answer. If I told Ollie about Janice, I don't know what would happen to her. I didn't like the girl, but I didn't want her put in some underground facility for the rest of her life or worse: beaten to a pulp.

"But he can't! It's just not possible," I blurted out, causing Ollie to shake his head and sigh.

"I don't know what to tell you then. It seems like Johnny is stuck in a pretty difficult situation." He still had no idea. Oliver continued. "The only thing you can do is be there for him. But that does not entail you worrying about Johnny's problems, understand? I don't want you getting worked up about other people's life when your life is a lot more important to me."

Embarrassed, I ducked my head, twirling a lone thread from the blanket draped over me. "I didn't think heroes were allowed to be biased about people's lives."

"Sometimes, we make an exception," Ollie said, a smile tugging at his lips. "Like right now, you need to go to sleep. What's it gonna take to make you to stay in bed?"

"I think I'm good now," I reassured.

"That's what you said before, and then I found you upstairs." Ollie recalled with a tinge of annoyance in his face. "Are you sure? I could get you some milk or maybe NyQuil?"

I frowned. Either sounded terrible at that point, but I knew Ollie wouldn't leave until I was asleep. Scouring my mind for an acceptable solution, I smiled mischievously at the opportunity. I voiced my answer proudly. "Tell me a story."

"No way," Ollie replied, quickly shaking his head at the nonsensical idea.

I shrugged. "Oh well, that was all I had. I guess I can play video games until I feel tired. My new one is on the shelf. Let's go get the XBox!"

Just as I was rising from the bed, I felt Ollie's swift hand pushing against my chest, back onto the mattress. "Fine, I'll tell you a story." He conceded. My face fell suddenly, and my eyes gawked at him. I wasn't serious!

"Why? The video games are just over there." I tried again. The lesser of two evils was obvious but Ollie persisted to shake his head.

"I'm not stupid, Bart. I know what you're trying to pull, and it's not gonna work." He told me. The blonde man settled down more comfortably into the bed, adjusting his hunter green shirt. "Let's see here… Okay, once there was a man-"

Sitting up in the bed, I continued to stare at him guardedly, but he didn't continue the story until I had laid my head back onto the pillows.

"As I was saying, once there was a man who had everything in the world. He was living the good life, fast cars, hot girls, the whole deal. Then, one bright and sunny Metropolis day, he got aboard a private jet, unable to see the consequences the flight would have on his entire life…"

Ollie went on to recount the story of his life on the deserted island and how it helped to hone his expert archery skills. Well, he had named the character "Wesley", which I could only assume was what he secretly wanted his name to be.

"The girl was straight out of heaven, Bart. I'm tellin' you, she had the whole package: intelligence, compassion, and sass. Not to mention she was incredibly beautiful." This part of the story piqued my interest especially. Ollie had fallen for a girl that was taken captive on the island? I'd never heard this part of the story before. I sat up a bit straighter.

"What was her name?" I asked, genuine curiosity on my face.

"Uh, let's see- Bess! Her name was Bess." Ollie fumbled, which meant he was hiding the real name with some retarded pseudonym. I hid my glower, prodding him to go on with the tale. "Wesley had fallen for Bess the moment their eyes met. And he knew exactly what he had to do to get her."

Ollie carried on with the story. Only when he began recalling the forming of the Band of Power (aka the Justice League) did my eyes began to droop. My mind already knew what happened and didn't want to bother paying attention to the rest. Although drifting off into dream land, I heard through a fuzzy and exhausted brain the very end:

"And the heroes made a pact to protect everyone. But most importantly, they sought the protection of each other, knowing they were the only ones able to battle the biggest evils in the world. And they kept that promise, living happily ever after in their recon base. The end." I couldn't remember what happened after that as I let the stupor of sleep swallow me whole…

After what felt like three seconds of rest, I felt myself being shaken back to the land of the living. I moaned. Noo! Not. Enough. Sleep.

"C'mon, Bart, get up!" I heard the voice whisper urgently. My eyes widened at _her _command and I sat up, wincing at the pains that shot through my body.

"Gah, don't you know anything about leaving people alone?" I asked, grumpy from being pulled from my much-needed sleep yet again. I got up and started walking towards my bathroom. If I was up, I might as well do something productive. Janice was at my heels, trying to stop me. I let out a put upon sigh and turned around. "_What_?"

"I just wanted to say thanks. And don't worry. I'm not going to tell anyone about your secret." She assured me. My mouth gaped open, able to draw flies.

"That's it? You're just going to leave the biggest story of the century like it never happened?" I didn't believe this for a second. Not even Lois would be able to hold this gossip in, and she was our friend.

"I heard what you said about the 'threat to the family's secret.' It doesn't take a brain surgeon to know you were talking about me. I know when I'm not wanted and when I've intruded too far on the boundaries of a family. You and Queen aren't like what the newspapers and magazines make you out to be. You talk more, that's for sure."

I scowled and stated bitterly, "You were listening in on my conversation."

"Yes and no," she fibbed. "I mean to say that I'll protect your secret. Nobody will know about your guys' drug bracelets." She promised. I almost fell over in exasperation.

"What do you mean 'drug bracelets'? Now I don't even know what you're talking about!" I cried, utterly confused. I just went through all that and she didn't even know _anything _about our secret abilities?

"Exactly," she said in a scandalous voice, laughing a little. I wanted to punch myself at my stupidity and strangle her for ever coming into my life. Instead I stood there in a shell-shock. "My lips are sealed. I'll catch you at school, Bart. Thanks again for the tour! It was a lot longer than I expected."

With that, she walked to the west wall, opened the white-trimmed window, and climbed out effortlessly, walking towards the front of the large house. My mind was stunned. All this time of torture and panic… All for the simple covering of drug bracelets? I wanted to scream in pure agitation. In fact, that's just what I did. I let out a bellow so loud, I didn't realize what I was doing until Ollie opened the door with a mini-crossbow attached to his arm.

I stopped abruptly, and after Ollie checked the room for any signs of danger, he turned to look at me as if I were deranged. "_What's going on with you_?!"

I snapped my mouth shut, staring at him guiltily. I forgot what would happen if my yells were actually heard. Man, couldn't catch a break no matter what I did. "Sorry…" I wracked my brain for an acceptable lie. "I stubbed my toe?"

Ollie shook his head, wrapped an arm around my shoulders, and guided me out the room and up the stairs. I wasn't sure where we were going but his silent indifference made me more scared of what was to come. When we arrived at the first landing, I noted the main living room was scattered with bags filled with a plethora of festive items. My eyes watched AC and Vic digging through them and pulling out ornaments, wreaths, and garland.

"What's going on?" I inquired of my two laughing teammates.

AC looked up from his fiddling to answer me, "It's gonna be Christmas soon so I thought I'd spruce this place up with some holiday cheer." He said in his Texan drawl. "It was always a tradition at the Curry house so I thought we should make it here too. Partly to blend in but mostly 'cause it's fun."

Vic was attempting to place a rather large tree into a red and green stand. AC abandoned what he was doing to help him out. As Ollie and I watched their efforts, the two managed to erect it successfully. In a peculiar way, the tree made the room instantly feel more like Christmas. I smiled at it tiredly.

"It looks great," I commented pleasantly. AC grinned, proud that his tree-buying had put us into the spirit of the season.

"Glad you like it 'cause now you get to help out," Oliver told me, directly discontenting me. I looked up at him, mortified.

"Can't I just go to sleep? I'm in pain, man!" I cried. I was surprised I could still function after the day I'd gone through. Sleep beckoned me at every turn; the pine tree sitting in the corner looked comfy enough to lie in.

Ollie simply shook his head. "I've already tried putting you down twice and nothing worked. Might as well have you do something helpful." I groaned. I could barely move from the pain I was in; trying to hang ornaments would surely strain my already aching muscles. "Here, just wrap some of these presents. They're for Clark and Chloe."

Ollie led me in front of the couch and helped me to sit down in front of it. I grunted as I made contact with the plush white carpeting and leaned heavily against the brown leather couch behind me. I wearily watched as Ollie placed an impressive-looking watch and earrings onto the steel coffee table in front of me.

"You really think they'll accept these?" I asked as Ollie brought some wrapping supplies over.

"Probably not, but I'm going to lie and tell them I bought it off a vendor on the street. Those two have such hero complexes. They never want anything in return for all their hard work." Ollie said. I nodded in understanding. That was true.

"Do you really need them wrapped?" I asked.

"And have Clark see that he got something in a jewelry-shaped box? He'd probably pulverize it with his heat vision before I had a chance to tell him my lie." Ollie reasoned sarcastically. "Do me this one favor and wrap it. By the time you're done, you'll be tired enough to finally go to sleep."

I whined, "But I'm tired enough to go to sleep now."

"Your waking up two times in the past hour tells me differently." Ollie recalled.

Exhaling heavily, I gave up, picking up the scissors obligingly. I couldn't continue arguing if I claimed I was only up in the first place to goof off. Blinking the tiredness out of my eyes, I tried to cut a straight line out of the red wrapping paper laid out on the floor. No dice. My hands weren't cooperating with me and I ended up slicing a crooked and shredded piece of paper out. I shrugged. Good enough.

I placed Clark's polished wooden watch box in the center of paper and folded it. Suffice it to say, my fatigue got the best of me once again, resulting in a piss-poor fold job as well. I tapered the edges down and sat back to wearily inspect my work. I yawned. Yeah, that was ugly. I let my eyes droop shut and laid my head down on the couch cushion. It was so comfortable I couldn't resist climbing on top of it and curling asleep into its cushions.

Listening to Vic and Ac chatter on about nothing lulled me further into dreamland. Welcoming the sleep, I let it soothe my frayed nerves and senses.

XxxxXXXxxxX

A/N: I swear I had 1500 more words written but I had to chop it off 'cause I wrote myself into a corner. I was like, "Great, what now?!"

The next chapter will definitely be my last because I've got 1000 words written of the sequel. If any of you have any ideas for the finale, please SHARE. This has been a thrill to write but I'm stretched for ideas right now. Reminder: Reviews work wonders.

Have nice days,

~Sarah

^.^


	9. Chapter End

**A/N:** I realize Christmas has already passed, but let's pretend it hasn't for the sake of the timeline, 'kay? Also, warning: jheavy stuff ahead, but keep in mind, this is NOT SLASH! Yeah!

**Disclaimer:** 18 year old writer + broke volunteer = definitely don't own no Smallville.

Thank you to all my reviewers. .:sings:. You guys rock! You, ladies and gentlemen, are the only reason I didn't give up on this story as is the trend with every story I've ever written on this site.

Onward to the grande finale:

XxxxXXXxxxX

I rubbed my cheek into the starchy pillow case and passed my hand over the blanket covering me. The stitching on the front of the duvet was unfamiliar and unlike any I'd slept in before. I dragged myself out of my sticky sleep, rubbing the remnants of it out of my eyes. Propping myself up on my elbows, I recognized the room as Ollie's with its modern decorating and flashy tones.

"Hm, didn't think I'd be here when you finally woke up." Ollie mused from the side of the room. I turned my head and saw he was packing up his laptop into the bag. The afternoon sun streamed through the velvet curtains in the corners, evoking a question from my mind.

"How long have I been asleep?" I asked blearily. Ollie stopped his laptop disassembly to mentally count the hours.

"Well, you fell asleep when we started putting the tree up. You were still asleep then…" he trailed off with a faraway look in his eyes. "Yeah, I'd say about three days." My eyes bugged out of my head and my mouth hung open.

"You're joking." I concluded. That wasn't possible. It didn't even feel like I'd been passed out that long. Then again, I hadn't slept that long in my entire life. "Even if I had been KO'd for that long, you didn't think about calling a doctor to see if I was okay?"

"No, but Chloe came and checked you out. She told us you were suffering from extreme exhaustion, from the beating and the power recovery, but you'd be fine if we just left you alone. So that's what we did." I nodded. Now that I thought about it; I did feel ten times better than before. My muscles, though still sore, weren't hurting me physically, and the bruises on my arms and legs, after some inspection, had faded to a dark yellow. I smiled.

"Wow, I feel great… Normal for once." I assessed, setting my feet on the white rug. Ollie zipped up his bag and slung it over his shoulder. "And just in time for Christmas break. Sweet." I couldn't believe my luck.

"Yeah, I guess that means you can start on your homework." I groaned.

"Geez, kick a guy when he's down. Can't I at least eat something first? You're talking to Bart here; three days without food and he's on the verge of suicide." Ollie smirked as I referred to myself in third person.

"All right, I think Vic made waffles downstairs," My mouth watered at the thought. It was going to be my reward for going through all this crap. "But I have to remind you; I got a call from your English teacher."

I paused to think about this. "Who? The British guy?"

"Yes, Dr. Lexington called to tell me your diagnostic writing essay wasn't up to par. Care to explain?" Oliver looked expectant. Gulping, I looked down. Truth be told, writing definitely wasn't my strong point, but did they have to tell Ollie this? Was it even his business?

"It's just not my thing, _amigo_," I divulged with an offhand shrug. "Math and science- those are things I can actually relate to."

"All right, I understand, but we're going to have to help you out with that to keep your grades up," he replied. I pressed my lips into a thin line, already against the idea. "C'mon, don't give me that face. Excelsior is a prestigious prep school, and the students need the grades to match. You knew what you were getting into, Bart."

I couldn't deny that fact. It had hurt my ears to listen to Ollie stress the importance of high grades at the school. Never thought it would come to tutoring though. "Fine, how do you propose you can help me become a better writer?"

Ollie had pulled out his palm-sized Blackberry and was now tapping a message into it. " Clark . He works at the Daily Planet. He's gotta be pretty good at essay writing, right?"

"Ugh, I don't want to go _there_. Clark works in a smelly ole' basement with that one annoying chick," Ollie twitched irritably at my whine. I ignored it and carried on. "Can't you just teach me yourself? It wou-"

"Look, before you say anything else, her name is Lois, and she's a great girl," Ollie cut me off with an annoyed looked. I was about to demand what crawled up his butt, he raged on. "And secondly, teaching you how to write is not possible. I don't know what possessed you to think I would actually have that kind of time lying around, but you were wrong. My schedule is packed and even if I did have the time, it certainly wouldn't be spent on that. You of all people know what I'm trying to accomplish with this team, Bart. Are you deliberately being this slow?."

Ollie's words felt like a punch to my gut. Humiliation, stupidity, and sadness invaded me all at once, but most of all, I was angry at him. Why did he have to take a simple request and turn it into the end of times?

"God, Queen, last time I ask you for something," I grounded out, stomping out of his room with anger heating my face. At least I hoped it was anger and not the beginning signs of tears. I told myself to suck it up and not get bothered by Oliver's impatience. He was acting like a jerk; move on.

As usual, Queen made no attempts to stop me. If I had to guess why, it was because he thought he was right, which caused my anger to flare that much brighter.

As much as it boiled my blood, Oliver and I had our stubbornness and inability to accept defeat in common. That's why we kept fighting and that's what convinced me we could never live peaceably together. Impulsively, I kicked a table lining the long hallway and watched the decorative boxes fall to the floor. Even with my powers back, I still felt helpless when it came to my life. I couldn't do anything to stop my flying mouth or my wayward legs.

I scrubbed a hand across my face to sober up, but just when I heard the tell-tale signs of Oliver getting ready to leave, I supersped down to the kitchen to find Clark waiting patiently for me, wearing dress shirt and slacks. He put down his mug of java to take in my rumpled appearance. That's what I get for waking up in a hurry.

"Something wrong?" he inquired. My face must have still been flushed from my meeting with Oliver, thus I hastily shook my head and averted my countenance.

"No, I-There was a spider on the bed," I fibbed, walking over to the refrigerator to pour myself a glass of OJ. Clark didn't think much of my terrible lie and went about reading something on his cell phone. God, he was becoming just as bad as Oliver with that thing.

"Ollie just texted me. You ready to go? I can wait if you need to shower." Clark offered cordially. Man, sometimes I wondered if there was a mean bone in Clark 's body.

"Right, my writing lesson with you. Can't wait," I said cheekily. Clark 's brow furrowed.

"You don't want to do it." It was a statement that clearly rang true as testament to my thorough displeasure.

"No, no, I love spending the holidays learning how to write in a crowded basement," I said sarcastically, rolling my eyes.

"C'mon, it's not going to be that bad," Clark tried.

I pounded my glass cup down, sloshing some of the juice onto the counter. "You don't know that! You guys assume I'll like something even when I know I won't. Even when I'm sure I'll hate it."

"Bart…" He started, and I looked away. Clark was the last person I wanted to release some pent up anger on, yet that's just what I did. "This isn't about the tutoring, is it?"

My eyes snapped up, filled with utter confusion. How did he…?

"Nobody get's that mad when they have to take a writing lesson." He pointed out. "Do you want to tell me what's really bothering you?"

Sometimes I wondered if Clark was secretly given the power to read minds but he just hadn't told any of us yet. Right then, I wished I had the power to erase minds because I didn't want Clark to think about me or my stupid problems. "No."

Clark raised one side of his mouth. "That's fine." I gave him a grateful expression. "You should get dressed though." My eyes widened.

"What? Why?" School couldn't be today because it was almost Christmas. Even prep schools gave holiday vacation; I was sure of it.

Clark quirked his head to one side as if the answer was plain as day. "Because you're going to work with me." This pulled an immediate groan from my throat. This again?

"I thought 'that's fine' meant 'okay, you don't have to do the stupid tutoring anymore.'" I clarified hopefully. Clark shook his head.

"Sorry, buddy, it means I'll give you your personal space but not your educational. If Ollie knew I let you off the hook, he'd kill me." My mouth fell open as Clark filled another cup of coffee and leant against the granite counter, looking expectant. "Unless you want to wear your pajamas there, you'd better change."

"But you're indestructible, how's Oliver _possibly_ going to kill _you_?" I questioned with a whine in my voice. Clark narrowed his eyes warningly, and I scoffed. "Fine, agh, I'll get dressed."

Ten seconds later, I was dressed and we were out the door. I'd like to have blamed my slowness to simply getting used to my powers but it majorly had to do with reluctance.

My mind was whirling with excuses not to go to the Daily Planet, but none of my schemes and plots seemed doable under the circumstances. Plus, Clark , the walking polygraph, would probably hear my heart fluttering if I were to tell such a lie. I was trapped on one destination. And as fate would have it…

My mom worked there.

XxxxXXXxxxX

I squirmed in the hard wooden chair, feeling restless and tense. Clark had sat me in an absent man's desk and probably would've welded my butt to the seat with his heat vision if I hadn't swore on my grandmother's grave that I wouldn't move… Again. Since we had arrived, I had left four times to grab a bite to eat, pick up a newspaper, buy a latte, and walk a dog.

"Whose dog is that anyway?" The last bit had earned me the_ last_ of Clark 's patience, who was having trouble believing I had just "found" the small, fowl-smelling terrier. I scratched its ears, shrugging.

"Could be anybody's." I explained. "Like I said, he was in the dumpster."

Clark gritted his teeth as he took the dog away and sped it back out the doors. He stealthily arrived back to give me a look mixed with anger, disappointment, impatience, and, worst of all, concern. I hated the concern most because that meant he was seeing right through my charades- That I wasn't doing this to fool around with him but because I sincerely and truly didn't want to be at the Daily Planet.

My slightly remorseful expression gave me away because Clark softened his own face, replacing anger with encouragement. This guy really was the man of steel if he managed to look past all the stuff I kept putting him through. He placed a hand on my shoulder, and I looked up hesitantly into his genuine eyes. "Whatever's bothering you, I can help."

I nodded. I knew this. Not even my own teammates had as much faith in me as Clark did. Heck, I didn't trust me as much as Clark did, which was why I couldn't tell him about my mom and how scared I was to see her again. My parents were a sensitive subject that no one who knew me dared to bring up.

I ran away from it all a long time ago, but that didn't mean that part of my life was over. It still ached to think about them, knowing that their absence meant I had no place to belong or look to for comfort. Fortunately, I found my team, which gave me purpose and a new family. But nobody, I don't care who you are, could forget about their own parents.

You were nothing without them.

Clark patted my shoulder again then placed some books down in front of me. "Here." I studied the covers, happy for the distraction. They were short books on how to write well by adding variety to one's essays. "These help me a lot when I have to type up some harder stories. You'll learn a lot from them."

I sighed, thumbing through the longest one. "Thanks a lot." I replied bitterly. Clark smirked and then returned to his desk. The one opposite was currently occupied by Lois Lane who seemed to be enjoying Clark 's below-average teaching skills and voiced this by sending him thinly-veiled insults. Boy Scout would simply roll his eyes and dig his head back into his computer.

After one mind-numbing, tedious hour, Clark got up and stretched, telling me and Lois he had to talk to his boss about something. I nodded, and Lois shrugged like she could care less but watched him with a wary eye until he was completely out of sight. Once this was ensured, she popped up from her chair, and walked quickly over to me and my pile of books, standing in front of me with her arms crossed over her chest.

I looked at her grinning face in half skepticism/half bewilderment. "God, I'm glad he finally left. Now I can properly introduce myself without Smallville hovering over my shoulder." She laughed at this and sighed when I didn't instantly join in. She outstretched her hand. "Name's Lois Lane . Clark 's told me a lot about you, Bart."

"Really?" I said, not believing that but shaking her hand anyway.

"You're the kid that Ollie's taken under his wing," I flinched at the statement. "Okay, maybe Smallville didn't divulge that tidbit-That was the Inquisitor. But still, there's gotta be some truth to it, right?"

I shook my head in amazement, "You didn't come to introduce yourself; you just want a story."

Lois frowned. "Fine, I'll admit it, you got me. But this is pretty big stuff."

"Look, Ms. Lane ," I started, annoyed with her already. Sure, she was pretty, but beyond that, I couldn't see how Ollie had put up with her.

"Please, call me Lois. Ms. Lane makes me feel like an old, dowdy teacher," she shuddered.

I sighed. I could tell this was going nowhere. "I'm not going to give you a story. Now I've gotta read these books, so can you please just leave me alone?" I expected her to humph and then march back to her desk but then her face took on something I wasn't quite expecting: curiosity and… Concern?

"Is something wrong?" she asked, dropping her arms to her sides. My face fell in exasperation. Oh great, not her too.

"You've clearly been hanging out with Clark too long if you've already picked up on his catch phrase." I said with a grin. My joke didn't seem to deter her as she stared intently at my face. I suddenly felt like I had this big sign on my head, reading, "Major Issues-Right Here!"

"I've just never seen a kid pick schoolwork over talking before." She shrugged, leaning against the side of the desk. I sighed in relief that my face wasn't as readable as I thought.

"Okay, yes, I've been reading the same sentence over 15 times," I admitted, looking down forlornly at the dreary text.

"So something_ is_ bothering you." She was leading me, but, even though I knew this, I still wanted to reply. Lois just emitted a casualness that made one instantly trust her with their secrets.

"It's this place; it brings back memories." I said, waving a hand around the cluttered basement.

"Really? You used to work here?" Lois asked, leaning towards me, interested.

"No, but my mom does," This was a real eye-opener to both of us- Me because I disclosed this to an almost-random-stranger, and Lois because as far as the public knew, my parents didn't exist.

"Wow," she stated. I nodded out of nature. "Well, let's go see her. Where does she work?"

I had a feeling Lois might suspect my superspeed power at the rate I had snapped my head to look at her in surprise. "Are you insane!? Why would I do that?"

"C'mon, you probably haven't seen her in ages so you'll want to see what she looks like and what she's been up to." Although the proposition seemed ridiculous, the brown-haired woman had a point. I sometimes sat awake at night, wondering what my mom and dad were doing at that exact moment. I always had to resist the urge to look up their names on our supercomputers, ensuring they hadn't divorced or worse, had another child. That would be just creepy.

"I can't believe I'm doing this," I said, standing up. My heart was already beating in my throat and I hadn't even moved a step.

"There's nothing to worry about. We'll just stop by and play catch-up." Lois beamed confidently.

"Excuse me, 'we,'" I reiterated, putting my panic attack on hold to look at her cynically.

"Of course, 'we.' I'm not going to throw you in with the sharks by yourself." She explained, clapping a hand on my back as we walked towards the elevators.

"I thought you said I had nothing to worry about." I yelped as the doors slid open, and we stepped in.

"Yeesh, details." Lois rolled her eyes before the elevator doors shut and we made our long ascension to the twenty-third floor. My heart thumped harder with every tick, and something told me it wasn't from the height difference. I just hope I didn't puke on my way out. On the other hand, if I did barf, I could use that as an excuse to just run home and forget this whole "family confrontation" ever existed. Sadly, Lois' voice interrupted my gagging process. "Ah, here we are: Obituaries."

Fear flickered across my face, but I hid it just as quick with impassiveness. I steeled myself before following Lois into the bustling floor. God, was there any department in this place that didn't have an influx of people working on it? My eyes glanced from stressed person to stressed person as I trailed after Lois in my peripherals. It brought back faint memories of my other trips to Mom's work. I hadn't realized the dying business was so aggressive.

At the recollection, I stopped. Lois turned once she noticed this, frowning. "Something wrong? Your mom's office is still up ahead. I checked."

I suddenly couldn't move. Seeing my mom would just bring back all the things I had tried so hard to cover up. My body was rejecting the idea, and I wanted to go along with my instinct to run more than anything else. Lois knelt to look at my eye level, placing a meaningful hand on my shoulder.

"It's going to be fine," she told me, and I nailed her with a glare.

"Right, and like you know jack about this sort of thing," I interjected. A statement that would've gotten me a stern, hour-long lecture from Oliver didn't seem to faze Lois in the least. She straightened up.

"You'd be surprised, Allen. We've got more in common than you think. My family is pretty screwed up too; you just had the guts to actually run away." This, of course, made me feel guilty, and I looked down at the stained carpet, shame-faced.

"Sorry," I amended.

"Don't worry about it. C'mon, I'll be right behind you." Oddly enough, that was all it took to bottle up my hurricane of objections and get my legs moving again. But once we started walking down the hallway, Mom's office at the exact end of the corridor, my pulse rose to impossible speeds. There was no doubt I would have a heart attack before I even got two words out to the woman.

We had finally arrived -much too fast, if you asked me. Lois looked at me with an excited grin that imitated the exact opposite of how I was feeling. My heart fluttered every time her knuckles made contact with the glass marked "Patricia Allen." We waited a few moments but nobody answered.

I drew together my eyebrows in unease. Tell me I did not just psych myself out this much to have her _not_ be here. I reached past Lois and rapped on the glass.

A few more moments.

Still nothing.

Lois tested the doorknob. It was locked! It was official:

"This was a complete waste of time, wasn't it?" I asked the tall woman. Her expression was inscrutable as she pulled out a pin from her hair. My eyes widened as I connected just what she was doing.

"You can't do that!" I exclaimed in panic, the pin hovering in front of the key hole. She scoffed and looked at me.

"Where's your sense of adventure? Is Ollie really keeping you on that straight a path?" I don't know how this lady knew just which nerve to strike, but it worked. My eyes flashed with anger but I bit my lip to control the bubbling rage. I nodded for her to go ahead, and in moments we were inside Mom's office.

"So what now?" I asked as we stood in the center of her neat and tidy workplace. Surveying the surroundings, I drove back the nostalgic feelings that threatened to invade me at every glance around the room.

"We snoop, of course," she shrugged like it was obvious. We began digging through her drawers and shuffling papers. I had no clue what we were looking for, and something told me Lois didn't either. I didn't ask her though because I was definitely interested in prying into my mom's present life and getting answers to some of my most burning questions.

It turned out she and my father were still together. By her emails, she was still in contact with my older brother who had set off for the army when I was thirteen, a few months before I ran away. In a sad revelation, I discovered she didn't have anything in her office indicating I was even remotely related to her. My shoulders slumped as I sat back in her rolling, leather chair, which smelt strongly of the fragrant perfume she always wore.

"Nothing." I announced desolately.

Lois was sitting on the tall table next to the window, reading some letters she had uncovered. "Same here. I've got these exact same memos in my desk," she sighed, folding them back into their envelopes.

I turned my head, catching something red slid in between the space between the monitor and the counter. I tiled my head, slipped it out, and claimed eagerly, "I think I found something." It was her day planner. Lois walked over and stood behind my chair.

"Let's see, open it to today's day. Maybe we can figure it out why she's not here." Lois instructed, and I obeyed, leafing through the dog-eared pages. I stopped on the date and had to do a double take at the words scrawled in my mom's handwriting. On the day's date, December 21st, it said one word:

"Queen." Lois and I said in unison. I could feel her gaze on me, but I couldn't look up. This was freaky and unexpected and a billion different other things. But most of all, I didn't understand it at all. Why would my mom be meeting with Oliver? Was it just Mom or was Dad going to be there to? Why hadn't Oliver told me anything about this when it was more so my business than his? There was only one thing I _was _sure of though:

I had to know what was going on.

"I have to go," I said suddenly, standing up and walking towards the door. Lois beat me to the punch and placed her hands up cautiously.

"Whoa, slow your ride there, Speedy. Go where?"

"Queen Industries." I said, looking past her. I had to get somewhere private so I could supersped down there. The bathroom seemed good enough.

"Huh. Now you're speakin' my language," she said with a smile, and I whipped my head up at her, eyebrows furrowed. "I'll grab my purse." She started walking towards the elevator and once I got over my utter mystification, I jogged to catch up with her.

"No, I meant, _I'll_ go to Queen Industries. Only me." I spelt out plainly.

Ironically, she responded with, "Well, unless you have the agility of a cheetah, I doubt you'll get there before their little meeting ends." Unable to say anything else, I reluctantly followed.

XxxxXXXxxxX

Lois and I practically sprinted out of the elevators once it arrived at the top-most floor of Queen Industries. Oliver's office was right around the corner, in the executive suite, but I stopped suddenly just as we were about to enter the circular foyer. Lois halted to cast me a questioning expression.

"Hang on," I told her. "I have to think."

"Think?" she repeated. "Thought we were going to go in there guns ablazin'?"

"Yeah, that'd be easy if Oliver's office wasn't monitored by four security cameras and Troy, who has over twenty men ready to assault the first guy that dares enter the office without Troy's express permission." Lois' face looked disbelieving. "Trust me, I've seen it. One time, this dude was like-"

"Okay, I believe you. Then what do you propose we do here, James Bond?" Lois inquired. I knew what_ I _would do. Just speed past Troy and the guards, like I always did. But with Lois here, I had to be creative. Thankfully, Oliver insisted on a male secretary.

"Open two more of your buttons," I abruptly told Lois, who looked ready to slap me for my request. "Trust me, it'll work. Please, Lois, I need to get in there."

Lois rolled her eyes, muttering, "You're worse than Ollie," as she plucked open the two gray buttons. I turned my head to watch Troy as she readjusted herself.

"I think it's clear. All set?"

She sighed. "Here goes nothing. Get ready to run." I nodded and watched as she placed sultry eyes on the unsuspecting Troy. I saw the world-class pervert grin and try his best to look butch. Lois' clenched fists gave away her total disinterest in the man.

After a few moments of mindless small talk, Lois had glanced over in my direction and tilted her head to the office. I returned the gesture with a nod and waited for her to turn back around before super-speeding to the doors and opening them.

"Troy! I said no-" Oliver looked up, and his eyes bugged out. "Visitors."

My mouth was dry. Sat in front of Oliver's desk were my parents, Patricia and Gary Allen. I blinked, wondering if this was some bizarre nightmare. My two worlds had collided and not a thought in my mind knew what to do about it.

Troy ran over behind me with Lois in tow. For five whole seconds, we were all in a stunned silence. Troy, the poor guy trapped in the very middle, was the first to speak.

"Mr. Queen, my apologies. I didn't-didn't see Mr. Allen come in." He attempted to explain with pleading eyes.

"I wonder why," Oliver grounded out, switching his furious gaze from me to Lois.

"Hey, honey, having a good day at the office?" Lois piped up cheekily. I paid little attention to the heated exchange that followed as my eyes were glued to my parents. They looked older, my father heavier and my mother thinner. Other than that, nothing had changed. They looked like the same people who had made my life a living hell the moment I discovered my abilities.

Something had angered Oliver enough to stand up and walk over to Lois. Once he grabbed the brunette woman's forearm, he spun around suddenly, almost forgetting the mind-blowing meeting going on right behind him.

"Mr. Allen, Mrs. Allen, please forgive me, I've got to take care of something. It'll only take a moment. You probably have a lot to talk about anyway." He added in afterthought, leaving the room, leaving me… With _them_.

My stare was still locked on my parents. They're very presence was intoxicating, disabling me from speaking or even thinking coherently. Oddly enough, my mother approached me and… Hugged… Me.

It took forever for my brain to even process it since her embrace was so comforting and warm. But once I did, I hastily disengaged myself from her grasp. I saw my mom had started crying, which is a lot more common that you'd think, and, upon inspection of my father, I saw he had a sad look on his face as well.

"I missed you so much, baby," My mother wept. Her fingers raked through the side of my hair and I tried not to flinch away. What had happened to these people? They may have looked the same, but their attitudes were different. They were clearly and undeniably… Remorseful.

"She's right, son," My dad agreed sorrowfully.

I just shook my head slowly. "_Are you out of your mind?_ You guys hate me." My words hung, cold and still, in the air. My parent's eyes expanded in alarm at my statement. Aha, here it comes. I half expected them to say, "_Gotcha!_" and go back to being the hateful people I had escaped three years prior.

But they didn't.

"What are you saying? Bart, please, we never thought that at all," My dad said, rising from his chair, his hands open beseechingly.

"Your father and I love you," My mom added. I just covered up my fear with a bitter sneer.

"That's a lie." I snarled. "You think I don't know what this is? You guys found out about my staying with Queen and now you want to exploit it."

"That's not it at all. Bart-"

I cut my dad off with a snarled, "No?" I wasn't going to listen anymore. I was breathing heavily at this point with all my years of pent-up rage. Every time I had to steal food, every time I had to sleep in an alleyway to keep some integrity- all of it was about to be unleashed on these two pathetic human beings. "I'm not stupid, _Gary_. You'll abuse it just like you abused me and my ability. But I'm not going to let you two ruin the one good thing in my life. Not this time. If you take as much as a single _cent_ from Oliver, I swear to God, I'll make your life just as horrible as you made mine three years ago."

I was trembling. I had said it. All those years I had thought about what I would say and I did exactly that. It was the first un-impulsive thing I think I ever did. And… It hurt. The release left me with this unbearable ache. I stared, shaking, at my parents gaping mouths. They couldn't believe it either.

"So, how's the reunion going?" Oliver asked cheerily, entering the office again. I looked my parents both in the eyes, turned, then roughly pushed past Queen. Taking the emergency stairs beside the elevator, I swallowed, hard. I wasn't going to cry here.

I supersped all the way home. The moment I was inside, I sought out a closet, somewhere I could hide and find darkness because that's the only place I belonged. On the second floor, in one of the dozen guest rooms the house held, I found a closet that locked from the inside. Once I was safe inside, trapped with my regrets and nothing else, I sat down in the cramped quarters, buried my heads in my hand, and let the hot tears escape.

For what felt like ages, I had cried and cried and cried. I felt like a loser in the sinister darkness. Stupid. Weak. Evil. I felt my mind becoming undone, letting go of each wretched memory. My parents were the worst part of my life. The only ones that could crumble the wall I tried so hard to build. I hated them. I truly did.

…Then why did I feel so bad?

_You're just like them. _My sobs hitched. It was true. I hurt the people that were closest to me. I pushed them away until they wanted nothing to do with me. Ollie was next, and, inexplicably, it hurt the most to think about that.

My tears trailed down my cheeks, tasting salty in my mouth. Swallowing, I came to the conclusion: I had to leave. I just couldn't bear the thought of being here any longer. I was suppressing the inevitable. I couldn't change when the course was already drawn. From day one I was doomed to make Ollie's life miserable and so far, that's all I'd done.

I cried harder, realizing I wouldn't see him again, knowing I couldn't be saved. It had to be done though. The grief I'd feel from hurting him would be even more unbearable. I couldn't stand running away again when that day happened. I howled in grief, the pain numbing my senses.

"BART!?" I stilled. Was that-? I sniveled. Great, I was imagining things now. My mind did crazy things when I was miserable. I continued to tearfully moan but stopped when I heard the voice, _his_ voice again. "Bart, where are you?"

It was shady in the closet, heightening my senses to sounds. That was undoubtedly Oliver Queen. I heard him enter the room and I held my breath, pressing my body flat against the shelf. I regretted not going for a walk in closet, at least I could hide better in that. The doorknob jiggled but didn't budge otherwise.

"Bart, are you okay?" Oliver's voice sounded incredibly alarmed and worried. My throat was tight and my lip quivered. It hurt to hear him like this. I wanted to get out, but with Ollie in front of the door, I was trapped. I felt like I was suffocating. In my emotional haze, I didn't hear Queen tapping his cell phone. "Yes, I need a paramedic's team. I-I think he's passed out."

"Ollie, stop," I cried in a thick voice.

"I'm sorry, ma'am, nevermind." He shut his phone. I heard him rustling and the shadow underneath the crack became wider, as if he had sat down. "Bart, are you okay?"

"Yes, I'm okay. Just- I need to be alone." The moment he left, I'd be gone. I watched the shadow under the door anxiously, but it never even moved.

"No," Queen answered firmly. "Bart, I want to help you. Just open the door."

Another tear leaked out of my eye. "Please, Ollie, don't do this," I whispered.

"I need to get you out of there. I'm sorry, Bart," Ollie apologized in a repentant tone. The shadow stood up and I watched it with wary, stinging eyes. The door handle was grasped and I knew exactly what was going to happen. I cringed as the wood and plaster broke with a loud CRACK from the Ollie's forceful pull. Light flooded into the small, dark closet, and my eyes, if possible, stung even more.

Ollie knelt down, his worry-stricken expression the only thing visible through my aching eyes. Throwing my guards down, I suddenly didn't care if I would hurt him. My inhibitions lost, I flung my arms around his neck and buried my head on his shoulder, dampening his dress shirt with my wet face. He grunted from my weight but instantly wrapped his arms around me, lifted me up, and carried me to the guest bed where he dropped us both.

"Shh, Bart, it's okay, shh." He rumbled. I continued to cry, pressing my face against his chest. After several minutes, I had calmed down some, only hiccupping slightly. Ollie stopped whispering small condolences, and spoke softly. "I'm so sorry, Bart. If I knew, what you're parents had done to you. I wouldn't have left you alone with them. I would never have done that to you."

I sniffed, sincerely hoping Ollie didn't like this shirt. I dropped my arms from around his neck and wiped my eyes. "It's not your fault, Ollie," I croaked. "They were the ones trying to weasel their way into your pocket."

Ollie backed up enough to look at me. His expression appeared quizzical. "No, that's not it, Bart. I invited them."

This time, I backed up to stare confusedly at _him_. "You… Invited them?"

Ollie nodded slowly. I could feel my head spinning at that answer. Oh no, no, _no_. This couldn't be happening.

"That means they really were sorry. That mean I-" Revelation hit me like a ton of bricks. My face took on a stunned appearance. "I just- Oh God, now they really hate me," I murmured in despair. My body shuddered and tears welled in my eyes.

"They don't hate you, Bart," Ollie told me seriously, placing his two hands on my shoulders.

His touch helped calmed my heavy breathing, but it did nothing to fend off the mournful thoughts.

"You don't know that," I replied, a tear made its way out of my eye and down my face. Ollie wiped it away and rested his hand on my hot cheek.

"I do know that, and I have the proof." I tilted my head in bafflement. He lifted his body slightly, jostling me somewhat, to pull out a stack of papers from his back pocket. "I intended to save this until Christmas…"

He held the papers out to me, a genuine smile growing on his face, and I took them with a curious glance to him before reading.

"_The Adoption proceedings are agreed upon as follows."_ My heart accelerated as I read the words. Quickly, I turned to the last page and studied the familiar signatures of my parents. My mouth fell open. I was speechless.

"You're not saying anything," Oliver's smile faded and he looked apprehensive and disappointed.

I breathed, shaking my head and stammering, "No, I just- I just can't breathe. This is- Wow." I looked at him seriously. "Are you-Are you sure?"

Oliver laughed at the question then looked steadily into my eyes with a firm determination. "I signed them the moment I got them from my lawyers. I've never been more sure about anything, Bart," He promised.

Despite my tears, I couldn't help the grin that spread across my face. For what was supposed to be my last day with Oliver Queen, it turned out to be the very beginning. My body felt exhausted by the abuse of emotions, but this news had, and still would, change everything.

"Thank you, I don't know what else to say," I said, enveloping his neck in a hug again. He rubbed my back soothingly and nothing felt more right.

"Well, do you have any questions about it?" Ollie asked and I sat back to stare at him with a smirk. Leave it to Ollie to spoil "moments" with the business technicalities. The guy needed a vacation.

"Sure," I said, humoring him. Ollie loved to explain stuff almost as much as he liked shooting the rings off soda cans. "Does this mean I have to call you 'dad'?"

Ollie sputtered-Definitely not the question he was expecting. "Well, er, I'd prefer you didn't because, it, um…"

"Right, don't want to feel old in front of your lady friends. I understand, man. Don't worry." I assured with a smile and a wink.

"But since we're on the subject of lady friends…" Uh oh, I'd forgotten about that. "Lois and you made a pretty good team when you were _breaking into my_ _office_."

I pursed my lips and slowly removed myself from the bed. "Hey, you're lookin' pretty tired, pops. Why don't I get us some Starbucks? Heard they got a new green mint latte. Sound tempting?" Ollie threw a pillow at my head.

"Just wash your face so we can play Call of Duty," he told me.

I scrubbed my sleeve over my face. That'd have to do. "What about your schedule?" I asked, actually curious.

"Hm, right now this seems a lot more important," he replied thoughtfully, and I grinned, glad Ollie would be my personal housebroken hero.

XxxxXXXxxxX

Back at the Daily Planet, Clark called Bart's cell phone for the forty-second time in the past hour. He muttered silently through his teeth, "Oh God, Ollie's going to kill me…"

The End.

XxxxXXXxxxX

A/N: Woo! The end! Yeah! Party at my house. -Okay, not really.

As you could probably tell from the story, I didn't offer any definitive conclusions with Bart's parents. Truth is, I was too scared! I'm not good with abuse and the like. It makes me squeamish. Hopefully you guys got the gist of what went down in Bart's past though, 'cause I ain't gonna write it!

Seriously now, please review. I wanna be able to say, "Here is the highly-demanded sequel! Ta da!" but you know, it sounds stupid when only three people actually wanted it. So please offer your lovely begging, pleading, and threatening comments, okay? You are my only hope for self-gratifying bragging rights! Yes!

Have nice days,

~Sarah

^.^


	10. Author's Note

Ugh, I know is going to be pissed that I'm putting an Author's Note up but whatever. I thought you lovely readers should know I put a sequel to this story up. Thanks for the support!

Have nice days,

~Sarah


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